I didn’t have posters of bands or movie stars on my walls as a young girl. Mine were butterflies and French philosophers — Camus, Sartre, de Beauvoir, and delicate wings in every shape and shade imaginable.
It might give you a hint as to what kind of child I was: curious, a little dreamy, caught somewhere between deep thought and flights of fancy.
I loved big dreams paired with delicate things. And now, after all these years… I still do.
