Sunlight slid through the branches, dripping gold over the silk beneath the cherry tree. Loosened by the hush of spring air, Petals surrendered themselves to the golden weave, settling as though they had always belonged there. The wind moved, but the rug refused to carry the season away.
A mother laid her child on the fabric, watching tiny fingers reach for the blossoms as they fell. A fisherman traced the patterns in the weave, searching for the river he once knew, the one that carried petals on its back like forgotten prayers. A painter sat at the edge, watching the yellow deepen where the light touched, wondering if the silk had been dyed by the sun itself.
Petals surrendered themselves one by one, drifting through the warm hush of early spring. The silk below, golden and soft, stretched beneath the cherry tree, catching the season before the wind could carry it away. The light settled where the fabric gathered, slipping between folds, pressing against the weave with a quiet reverence.
Silk held the light in its grasp, swallowing the late afternoon gold. A breeze moved through the cherry blossoms, sending petals in quiet spirals toward the silk below. The carpet, golden as fields before harvest, spread beneath the tree like a waiting canvas, drinking in the softness of falling blooms.
Arabesque, Terminus, Emblem, Surveyor, Folklore, and Promenade collections house the grandeur of centennial artistry. Brace yourself. Every collection will carry you on a traditional odyssey.
Art is constantly transforming. Seasons, Dermis, Lovers And Dreamers, Cosmic Order, and Holding Court collections all mirror that. The present moves, but silk holds onto it, preserving light before it slips away.
