plucked from a dream.
Poetic pictures reminiscent of a film which has just started. Will there be a bubble bath awaiting beyond the door? A moon chart, like the one hanging from the classroom wall when analogue was still a thing? Winter is a cold blanket, muffling all sounds outside the room. But it is beautiful, for we know we can scamper back to the warmth of our room. A room filled with love – the soft gown hanging from the hook, fastened to the old, wooden door, with its original iron handle and floral decorations. Art, a sudden snapshot of how life can be if you are ready to welcome it. Our memories transform into petite, divine recollections.