When someone asks me where my passion for vintage paper and books come from, well… now you know. This is a photo from my parents house, where I lived until I was 27. Surrounded by plants and antiques. Even if it was a small apartment I had all I needed to feel sheltered.
They love books, writing and antique botanical prints. I had no idea how important this was until some time ago. When I finally stopped being blind to life and started to breathe my spirit again.
No more than a couple of years ago I realized that I’m a person for myself, I don’t need anyone else to be who I am. I have passions and loves that I shouldn’t feel guilty for, that I want to take some time for myself and there’s nothing wrong with it.
Then, suddenly, all my childhood sensations came back and I remembered who I really was and where I was coming from.