I grew up in the French countryside, with a forest behind our house that felt like my first Temple. My days were spent barefoot in the fields, wading through cold streams, eating fruits straight from the trees. Some of my clearest memories are nights in the garden. My cousins and I would lie down in the grass a sky map and flashlight in hand, tracing constellations. I still remember the feeling of being held by something greater. But when I grew older and moved to Paris to work, my life changed and my colors faded for a while. 

 The Path of Colors and Healing 

As a young adult, I entered a long season of wearing only black. It was a quiet time of introspection and healing. 

Then came Venezuela: seven years in a land bursting with color. Slowly, color became my medicine. I first learned to support myself through light therapy, discovering the subtle language of energy. This led me to become a healer myself, working with color, sound, and energy. 

Today, my creative process begins in my dreams. Colors arrive like little revelations, and I wake up knowing: this is the next piece.