The tiny house in Provence, was the guardian' house for the larger house on the property. It is under an massive historically documented cyprus tree. This morning as I went to the tiny house to give it another look over before going to the train station to pick up Maggie, the first person to stay in the house since fifty years. I looked up at the protective welcoming arms of the cyprus tree and thought, I have enjoyed every single second working/creating in this tiny house it feels bittersweet for the project to be over.
The front door key that is too big for a pocket, that feels like a barbell after carrying it for five minutes I gave it to Maggie, she loved it instantly. I knew from the sparkle in her eye that she was the perfect person for the tiny house, she will stay until mid April.
Maggie agreed with me that the door, the lock and key had to stay the same. Even though utterly impractical it is the charm that carries the reason.
Oh when beauty rules,
when the heart leads,
when passion takes over,
when one follows their own path,
when life leads with the beat of many drums and yet one can dance to a song within.
Yes that is freedom, that is love.
I asked Maggie what she thought of the tiny house, "It is a dream come true. It is enchanting, an artist's paradise..."
The cyprus tree hugged her, the tiny house beamed.