During a long overdue catch-up with a friend I was asked how I think up the rooms at the estate. I found myself lost for words. Do I have an approach to interior design? And if I do, why do I struggle to articulate it? Perhaps it’s too intimate an affair to kiss and tell? Unless I turn it into a dream tale…

Once upon a time, a young soul in need of guidance was thrusted in the arms of an old one. Wise, weathered  and French (ooh-la-la!) the old soul provided tender tutelage to the younger one. His walls whispered to her, inviting her in to kiss his wrinkles, bathe his wounds and caress his scars, teaching her to see the beauty of age, experience and imperfection. He inspired her with new ways of looking, thinking and creating, without the limitations of rules or a preconceived plan. No goal setting, no beginning, no end, just intuition and flow in the present moment. Up until today the old soul remains unruffled by the drama the young one inflicts on herself: the tears, the fears, the doubt. Unabashedly sensual, he just kisses her with a breeze as light as a feather and surrounds her with birds, blooms and butterflies. He takes her for walks in the cleansing rain or the sun’s soft embrace. And at night, when she lies naked under the stars, stripped of all pretense, he brings her dreams with a sprinkling of moondust. Slowly, at her own pace, the young one is maturing into embracing the whole of life. Awakening to herself by baring the beauty of the old soul. And by loving him with the whole of her heart.

Illustration: a once despondent room on the first floor now ready to welcome guests.