My father desk

Since I was a little girl I always have seen that desk under piles of papers, objects, dirty ashtray, I actually never knew the color of the leather. It was my father desk, he was an antique dealer in Paris.
I finally reproduce it by memory.
But the other day when I was visiting my brother I discover that the top was green. Now when we talk by skype I can see it behind him.
My brother’s wife is more tidy than my dad …obviously.

The carpenters fixing the brass