The rooms, with their furniture, objects and textiles, speak of the journeys we have taken, who we are and what is important to us and we value most.
Home is the only place where you can truly be yourself, where you breathe peace, truth and beauty, where it sounds subside, perfumes soften and sensations intensify. Where nothing can hurt you. It is both refuge and certainty.
Time flows through certain places like a river, leaving an indelible imprint on every rock and stone it encounters, fusing past and present together in an exquisite equilibrium.
As you walk through the rooms, you are transported to another world that effortlessly blends a cosmopolitan Milanese sensibility with a tribal elan.
There are flavours of Puglia, England, Turkey. Art and artefacts from dark, mysterious and fascinating Africa. The interiors offer up a kaleidoscope of emotions, always and everywhere. Shells, necklaces and boxes, books and collections, fragments of personal history displayed with pride and protected with modesty.
Playful coloured masks, droplets of ruby glass, emerald glass, jute curtains. And so, eventually, we are free to look elsewhere, within our being, to the energy, the almost tangible genius loci, that protective spirit that transforms everything and allows you to view reality through renewed eyes. Like mirrors reflecting your own emotions. Finally, you are home.