“You have to wait outside for a minute, till I have put on the lights”, fixated the lord of the castle me steady on my place in the court. A couple of minutes later he gently dashed me forwards through the gate. For a splash second it dazzled before my eyes.
Was this sensation of coming home dream or reality?
This was the exact feeling overwhelming me when as young girl I could gaze for hours through the sensational show-windows of distinct shops like Metz and de Bijenkorf (our local Bloomingsdale’s)
To indulge me on the fairy worlds of the famous Dutch designer Brenno Premsela. 
But how little would I have guessed by then, years later I myself would walk into a dream world simply because somebody had recognized my dream as his own.

Sometimes in life we very unexpectedly are able to experience a feeling of eternity. Moments in which only one thing is important. To be exact at the spot where you are that very minute. Corstiaan and I granted each other many of such inspiring moments. 
However we lost contact over the years, the eternal sensation of such holy moments do always remain. Even now I write about it, I still feel like, for the very first time, stepping over the threshold in Mill.

At once I felt embraced by the intimacy of a gorgeous scarlet red, welcoming me from the ceilings and walls of the hall. But most eye-catching was an18th century oak table of impressive length completely covered with Poinsettia’s flaming in the same color red as the walls… and then to think, this was just the entrance!
When a moment later I looked at Leonor’s Fini's portrait of a lovely young girl, I realized myself I came home in the magic land of my spring goddess.

In my series of the planets I myself also made a colored pencil drawing of a sort of spring goddess. Only at first side the image looks a bit fairytale like, but the title gives away quite something else. It’s called :The neurotic phantom.
In the drawing dream and reality are interwoven with each other. There is this young woman on her own little isle. While spinning her sensual dreams, she doesn’t seem to be aware of being caught in the spider web of the wicked spinner. 
Or would she just feel fine and protected?

Some of us are merely looking of their muse. Sometimes to be found in an almost mythical love affair. Those kind of loves can be very inspiring and fulfilling, but are not at all suitable for the down to earth sort of life. Still don’t  ever think this would make them less precious. At the contrary! Wasn’t it that very brief encounter with his Beatrice which granted Dante a live long embrace with his muse?
My muse is given many faces and beard even so many names. Leonor Fini was one of them. Corstiaan another. Often enough she smiled at me from such unexpected places. This never stopped even now a days she finally choose to settle in my heart. Less restless then before, but  still full of delightful surprises.