Honoring the divine feminine in me with this humble rosa pendulina.
Discover more about the divine feminine here.
flowers
Bougainvilleas
The Lady of the Camellias
Double-flowered camellia… these flowers mean desire or passion and, perhaps this is the reason why Alexander Dumas decided to name one of his most beautiful novels the Lady of the Camellias.
Botany for Gardeners
I just need more time to appreciate this beauty.
Hygrangeas
Yesterday, late at night, my unrest soul draw this hydrangea accompanied by Schumann and my new botanic book that inspires me to draw beautiful flowers.
Framing Memories
Monday, 24th of October 2016
Dear Diary,
I am always very surprised with myself in the early hours of the morning, everything is so unfamiliar and yet, how many times was I born to live in this insipid place? With my eyes closed, I open the doors that lead me to the olden and shabby corridors which once I was verily acquainted, endless corridors that used to lead me to wonderful and secret places. I close my eyes to listen the distant Schubert and frame these memories in a secure place that I call heart.
Butterflies Were Made to Fly
I spent my Sunday drinking tons of warming tea, sighing for Autumn and preparing orders. My butterfly bundle already found a new home! and I am so relieved, because I know it will be treasured.
The Recipe for a Meaningful Week
Ingredients that will turn my week into a meaningful one: beautiful hairdos, vintage dresses, books, tea, forgiveness, self-esteem, love, flowers, creativity and quietness.
Over a Flowering Bed
16th of August 2016
Dear Diary,
Dandelions, dragonflies, little birds flying everywhere. In this garden, life appears to me as a singular delight and my soul lays peaceful in contentment over a flowering bed. Mysterious doors, closed windows, old walls, stories waiting to be unveiled and told. Here there is no sadness, no fearful nights or injured memories. Half of me shall recovery here. Half of me shall find love here.
My hideaway
14th of August 2016
This week, I’ve finally finished to decor my working station, I don’t even like to call it – a working space, because, for me, this place is more a hideaway, a shelter, a place of recovery than a place to work. Once in a while, I look steadily at it and I feel proud of all of this assemblage. All the flowers and the old things that I have been collecting, finding in the streets mean so much for me… Lately, I doubt so much of myself but the simple act of looking at this place makes me realize that I am capable of something, but for these results I need time… and in nowadays, we seem to have forgotten what truly means: “slow down”. Day after day, I despise more and more crowded places, cities and chaos, I would rather live in a small cute village than in a city, I long for this day so badly, but for now I’ve this improvised shelter.
I think this day deserves too a poem from Emily Brontë:
Moonlight summer moonlight
‘Tis moonlight, summer moonlight,
All soft and still and fair;
The solemn hour of midnight
Breathes sweet thoughts everywhere,
But most where trees are sending
Their breezy boughs on high,
Or stooping low are lending
A shelter from the sky.
And there in those wild bowers
A lovely form is laid;
Green grass and dew-steeped flowers
Wave gently round her head.
Emily Brontë
The Candour Cabin 