Ah, the scent of old varnish whispers through the wood, like a quiet forest after rain. When the missing rod finds its home, the frame should feel balanced, steady, almost breathing. The paint layers will feel smooth at first touch, but if you glide your finger over the surface you’ll catch faint ridges of each coat—tiny ripples that remind you of time, of seasons. Those layers are like memories; they’re not heavy, just gently layered, each one a breath of the past. When the frame is restored, it should feel like a living canvas, ready to catch new light, yet still holding the old story.