Flowering in Pantelleria
A gust of wind brushes the earth and carries with it the scent of sea salt and wild mint. As it rushes by, the wind tells the story of Pantelleria, an island at the crossroads of Mediterranean cultures, a feminine island that welcomes beauty and lets it blossom.
It is as if the interior of a home breathes together with the nature that surrounds it, and the materials and colors of the landscape, those grey stones, the white of salt crystals, that bark, those turquoise waters among the rocks instill a deep sense of serenity, a balance, a sense of origin. The beginning of a shared life. In Pantelleria, things are made by hand. A skilled hand that sketches shapes of ancient simplicity.
These are elegant lines because they have forgotten what is unnecessary; they are soft volumes, fabrics that are strong yet delicate, they are weaves and without weaving, there would be no stories in books. The narrative is broad, harmonious: the geometry of a vast sofa next to the full moon of a stone coffee table, the rhythm of a bookcase that divides yet connects the spaces, and that light which caresses every material and everyone who has chosen it.
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