Imprint:
It is the plants leaving their portrait on the cloth. An alder leaf, the veil of a cosmos, the fine branching of eucalyptus. Each one stamps its form, its vein, its naked truth.
Bond:
It is a pact of trust. I prepare, roll, steam. The plant responds. There is no rush, only shared time.
Wonder:
Unfolding the cloth is always a sigh. To see how its spirit has travelled onto the fabric, leaving a perfect, faithful shadow. It is an intimate miracle.
Journal:
Each textile is now a page of the landscape. An autumn day, the garden in July, the shade of the forest. I do not interpret it, I archive it. It is my way of walking through the world: attentive, gathering botanical whispers.
