sleep doesn't come on schedule. Sometimes the body is already tired, but the mind is still in the kitchen, on the phone, in tomorrow's...

(Golden oil formula with island character) Sometimes oil is not a treatment. It is a way to return to the body. When you don’t want to...

Some scents smell like words. And some like silence. The shadow under a cypress. Dry sage. A drop of water on a dusty stone. That's what...

"What remains on the fingers" Some creams make your skin smooth. And some give you back yourself. This one is one of the latter. I make...

There are some foods that don't improve the taste - they calm. They don't argue with food, but become a pause between its words. Olive...

All the softest things on the island happen after fifteen. The sun becomes longer, the sounds become less frequent, and the air is no...

There are days when your skin asks not for cosmetics, but for caress . When you don’t want experiments, active ingredients, acids and...

This is not just a tree. This is a tree that did not go away , even when everything changed. It did not leave, did not dry out, did not...

In Corfu they don't "grow" - they live . Some of these trees were planted more than 400 years ago . Not for shade. Not for business....

13 Things That Made Me Feel Not Greece, But Myself Don't expect organization from Corfu. Expect softness , light , quiet smells , an...

Spirits can scream. Or they can breathe. I choose the latter. On the island, scent is not a trail. It is air. It sits on the skin like a...

the formula of sleep, memory and the smell that lives nearby In Corfu, in old houses, I often notice cloth bags tied with string. They...

I don't call it a cream. It's an oil that stays on your wrists like a whisper of touch. Afterwards, your skin doesn't smell like...

There is a warmth that is not from the fireplace. But from a sunspot on an old table. From the peel of a tangerine that leaves its aroma...

On the island, midday is the time when the air becomes thick as honey. At such hours I don’t drink coffee – I brew tea that smells like...

In the village of Lakones, silence is not silent - it lives. Here, the walls are not painted, but faded. The rooster crows, and you...

There are plants that are not collected by hand - by light. I leave a jar of oil on a sunny wall of a house in Corfu. Inside are yellow...

Morning on the island is not coffee. It is tangerines that I cut right on warm ceramics, and tea in which light is steeped. On a wicker...

In Corfu, the morning begins with an open window. Below is a terracotta roof, on which a cat is basking. The air is warm, but not yet...

There is a care that does not require words. It is like a breath. Like a petal on the cheek. Like a whisper: “I am near.” "Powdery...