Welcome to my Inner World. I am a French self-taught artist, and these past twenty years I have made Norway my home. Moving to the Lofoten islands was the greatest present I ever made to myself and the Arctic landscapes are indeed a true treat for any artist’s eyes. I live with my British soulmate,… Continue Reading
She was born a princess. When her mother died, her father vowed he would not marry again until he found a woman as beautiful as his wife had been. The king searched in vain until, finally, he turned his hunger upon his own daughter. But she would not be chosen. Clad in her grey donkey skin, she fled, becoming invisible to the world. In another kingdom, in her magical hut, she lived alone but content. She wove wonderful fabrics, sewed beautiful dresses. Looking from the outside, no one would ever have guessed that lowly Donkey Skin, a scullion in the the castle kitchens, was in fact a princess. And so it might have gone on, if a prince hadn’t chanced to look through her window and fall madly in love. The feeling was reciprocated (But not before three balls were given, and a cake was baked with a ring inside—who doesn’t love an intricate courtship?)
Core spinning is fun, although difficult.