A wonderful holiday with a sad moment

When we go on holiday, against our better judgment, we decide not to look for antiques. You're probably thinking: 'flea market is fun!' And that's true, looking for antiques is a lot of fun. But it is also good to be busy with something else every now and then and to enjoy other things.
And so I keep resolving to enjoy different things during the holidays. Initially it works very well. The weather is lovely and we take walks in the vineyards. There is a nice terrace in the middle of such a vineyard where you can drink all kinds of wine from the region.
And that is wonderful. Too good actually, because we drink a little too much. And if all went well, the owner will come. He would like us to taste a few more types of wine and that is just a bit too much. Not that I'm going to be crazy, but I didn't think about the fact that we still have to walk back through the vineyards and that we first have to go up a lot further.
When we start the way back, the mountain suddenly seems much higher than usual. It's like I have weights hanging from my legs. I would prefer to crawl, but I'll stick to walking. If only I had had a glass less, it goes through my mind. But it was so cozy and the atmosphere was so relaxed.
I bite the bullet for a moment and then we happily descend. And because this beautiful spot is only a half-hour walk from our stay, we go to the vineyard every afternoon and I come back every afternoon with heavy legs. Silly me, but we enjoyed it so much...
And then I want to go to a flea market that we had been to before. I also wrote a piece about it at the time. A gentleman in a shop filled to the brim with antiques.
it was so bulging that he had also piled everything up outside his shop. The building with its blue front door and blue shutters had something inviting and cozy about it. Not a place where I could really buy anything, but just nice to browse around.
And so we go back to the store with a nice gentleman, because that's what he definitely was. He had a kind of office in the store, where he sat all day and where he determined the prices for the products if you showed what you had found. He was up for a joke and had a nice chat.
When we arrive at the property, it is as if we are standing at another house. It is tidy and clean, only the blue front door and shutters reveal that this is the right building. I'm about to take a picture when a young man comes up to us and says the store is closed. And indeed, the sign with 'Brocante' has been masked off. He is the son and he tells us the sad story of his father who committed suicide because the pressure of everything around the flea market had become too much for him and he could no longer see the forest for the trees. It was so full, filled to the ceiling. It turned out that he had been depressed for a long time. And now they have been emptying the building for weeks. The son says we can take the few things that are left outside for free. But we don't feel like doing that, it doesn't feel good and I also think taking a photo is inappropriate. The photo in this story is from earlier when everything was still 'good'.
We are very impressed. I think of the gentleman who apparently sat so contentedly in his office. I feel quiet inside.
And furthermore, we came across even more antiques this holiday and everything barely fits in the car when we go home again.
We had a wonderful holiday with a sad moment...

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