I’ve moved again.

There have been many moves in my life. So many. Each time — expectation, discovery, hope, the slow drift into routine… and then, once again, the road. The world has seen me here and there. At first, this way of living was part of what inspired me. But then, I began to long for the comforts of home. To arrange cups in a glass-doored cabinet. To find the perfect emerald sofa. To grow flowers, drink tea to birdsong, and write stories in my garden at dawn.

Lavillia caught me from the very first mention — the very idea of living in a town of contrasts. The sea on one side, the mountains on the other. A street so quiet it breathes, and just beyond it, the most vibrant square.

I chose a little cottage just outside the town — close enough to everything in the world — and called it the Storyteller’s House.

Written by the Storyteller at dawn, in her magical garden

shelestlesa.com

I’ve moved again.

There have been many moves in my life. So many. Each time — expectation, discovery, hope, the slow drift into routine… and then, once again, the road. The world has seen me here and there. At first, this way of living was part of what inspired me. But then, I began to long for the comforts of home. To arrange cups in a glass-doored cabinet. To find the perfect emerald sofa. To grow flowers, drink tea to birdsong, and write stories in my garden at dawn.

Lavillia caught me from the very first mention — the very idea of living in a town of contrasts. The sea on one side, the mountains on the other. A street so quiet it breathes, and just beyond it, the most vibrant square.

I chose a little cottage just outside the town — close enough to everything in the world — and called it the Storyteller’s House.

Written by the Storyteller at dawn, in her magical garden

shelestlesa.com