I began this year thinking less about outcomes and more about what endures, sunrises and sunsets that do not pass through sky, but through chest, kind that arrive quietly and leave something altered behind them.
Some moments are gentle and forgetable, whilst others descend slowly, viscous as honey, seeping into soul until it grows heavy with sweetness and strength enough to carry a lifetime.
I worked copper slowly, without symmetry, without conquest. I have learned that copper does not respond to certainty; it responds to listening. Each curve was formed by resistance and release, by a conversation between my hands and material. Nothing here was forced into obedience. Weave exists because it was allowed to. Agate holds the colours of late light, ambers dulled by distance, pale milked layers, translucence that refuses to settle into single truth. It changes as the wearer moves, as days change, as the body warms it. It is not decorative. It is companionable.
As I worked, I returned again and again to a shoreline in my memory: white pebble beach in small town along the Adriatic coast. My hair was wild, untamed, stiff with salt. I would sit for hours watching sun slide behind islands of Brač and Hvar, waiting, foolishly, faithfully, for moment it would hiss as it touched the sea. first stars would arrive almost apologetically. Behind me, mountain Biokovo would ignite, its sharp white cliffs catching the last light of the day, burning briefly before surrendering to shadow.
That kind of beauty does not ask to be owned, only to be witnessed.
This pendant does not try to hold past. past resists being held. Instead, it carries the weight of remembrance. Worn against the skin, the copper warms and yields. The agate gathers light, then releases it slowly, like a thought one returns to in difficult years.
It is a piece made for living inside time, not escaping it.
For those who understand that nostalgia is not longing for what was, but reverence for what shaped us.
Like evening.
Like memory.
Like us.