Hundreds of years ago, hidden in the most remote ruins of an ancient place, there was an object surrounded by a deep mystery - a black vase. It was not huge or made of the finnest material, but it had a story to tell.
The vase was dreamed up by the gifted hands of a man who had magical powers. At the time the vase was built, the man was in love with a woman who held the utmost beauty and wisdom. The vase was the symbol of that love. It was red and shinning.
The couple lived together under the oceans, between clouds, travelled through other dimentions. They knew the language of all living things and learned about their dreams, thoughts, and feelings. The man and the woman had their hearts fused as one. They shared a perfect combination ... pure harmony.
A day came when a strange wind brought purple clouds and devastation. The woman felt something heavy on her heart and vanished. She was never seen again. The man, tortured by sadness, took his own life. The vase witnessed everything, the years of love and last moments of agony.
Since then, it turned black. When discovered, hundreds of thousands of years latter, people found inside it a red rose still wet by the morning dew as it had been taken a minute before ... fresh, pretty, velvet, imaculate.
The vase had the power to keep everything new and pretty in spite of its darkness. It was made in the name of love and love was the only way to unveil its stories. The Humankind learned them. The world was saved from tragedies. The vase became a symbol of hope, understanding, peace, and wisdom.
It was meant to generate love endlessly and purify hearts lost in dispair.