Dear Journal,

Today was a turning point.

The idea that blossomed in my mind during my visit to my mother's garden took shape in a way I hadn't anticipated. I envisioned a collection inspired by a "garden of time," where life and death are part of a natural cycle, but the beauty of flowers endures. The concept is about capturing the essence of timeless beauty amidst the transient nature of existence.

I shared the idea with May, and her reaction was exactly what I hoped for. She found the concept beautiful and immediately started brainstorming how we could bring it to life. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and we dove into the creative process with renewed vigour.

We managed to sketch out our first design—a stunning blue dress inspired by the bluebell flower. The idea was to embody the delicate elegance of the flower in a way that would translate into a captivating piece. May jokingly suggested adding a bee accessory to the dress, which made me laugh.

Instead, I proposed a cute headband, incorporating subtle nods to the flower's natural environment.

As we worked, the studio was filled with a sense of camaraderie and shared vision. It felt good to collaborate so closely with someone who not only understood the concept but was also passionate about making it a reality.

Eventually, May had to leave to catch the subway. I offered to drop her off at her apartment, and she agreed with a smile. The drive gave me a chance to reflect on the day and the stark contrast between her home and mine.

When we arrived, May's apartment was warm and inviting, a cosy space filled with personal touches and charm. It was a far cry from my minimalistic, modern home. Her place felt lived-in, with an undeniable sense of character and comfort.

As I walked through her apartment, I couldn't help but wonder if I had ever truly experienced a place that felt like home. My own space is designed to be sleek and efficient, but it lacks the warmth and personality that her apartment exuded. I found myself questioning whether a home is defined by its design or by the people who inhabit it.

After saying goodbye, I drove back to my studio, lost in thought. The day had been productive, but it also made me ponder deeper questions about what it means to belong somewhere. Is it the physical space that defines home, or is it the connections we build within those spaces?

For now, I'm excited about the new project with May and the possibilities it holds. As I look forward to the days ahead, I'm reminded that home is not just about where you live, but about the people and moments that make you feel grounded and alive.

Much to do,

- Alexander