In my head it is 1860 something, i live in a formidable stone house built several centuries before. Situated on the edge of a great town, not too far in the distance is the sea, a constant inspiration.
Attached to the left wing of the house is a large metal structure, with a worn chequered floor, on which sit several creaking rattan chairs each filled with time worn faded floral cushions, terracotta pots filled with lipstick red geraniums sent the air.
This is to be my very own work, i know i will stitch some of my finest work from here...
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