Baggage Talk

CB DANDI is a pinecapple‑born wallpaper — a field of dandelion dreams that proves the ideas you once called impossible can still break through concrete and bloom.

CB PAPIJON is a butterfly wallpaper that turns a black‑winged visitation into pattern — a reminder that love doesn’t vanish when someone is gone; it simply transforms and finds you again.

CB FERNLINK is a fern‑trellis wallpaper that remembers what my grandmother’s home taught me: the things that hold you up don’t confine you — they help you grow free.

CB LLAMA is a flame‑bright wallpaper for intuition — a reminder that the hunches you trust aren’t guesses but a quiet call from an inner wisdom that already knows the way.

CB SEABEAN is a wallpaper pattern born from the pinecapple motif and the journey of sea beans — tropical drift seeds that trust the current, carry undiminished potential, and arrive ready to begin again.

CB HIRO is a transformational wallpaper — a flower in the middle of Hiroshima reminding you that your life is not the blast but the bloom that keeps opening anyway.

CB MAYA is a turkey‑vulture wallpaper that reveals the mother behind illusion — the quiet, devoted care that has been guarding your life long before you knew its name.

CB FINCA turns your walls into a finca of the heart — a cultivated landscape of light and shadow that helps you tend what truly matters, from belonging to the stories you carry.

CB CARRYON turns the turkey vulture from scavenger to golden purifier — a wallpaper reminder that when you release the struggle, you make space to carry on with more grace and ancestral wisdom.

CB BOYAN is a flamboyant-tree wallpaper — a Royal Poinciana bloom that waits through long seasons of green before erupting in color, reminding you your life is not running late.

CB BLAST is a wallpaper compass guided by Polaris — a fixed point in your sky that helps you stop searching for directions and start moving toward your true north.

A 1970s beaded curtain reimagined into a devotional strand of desire — each bead a breath, a prayer, a choice to cross your daily thresholds with intention.

Beneath the illusion of stubbornness, donkeys intuit fear and remain seated until the danger has passed. That seated stance? Not a weakness or laziness. It is a living posture of inner stillness — an embodied asana that trusts instinct over external pressure.

I grew up with two kinds of white walls. My grandmother's was a lighthouse. My mother's was a departure lounge. In 2020, I met the third kind — and it nearly broke me.

In the United States, Pilgrims outlawed color on walls. None of them ever made it to Puerto Rico — where Mother Nature's palette and the joy of living inside it has always been a birthright.

In 2019, a clam shell on a gray Bainbridge beach stopped me cold. It was lying on its back, belly up — and it was the kind of white I grew up with.

There are expats, and then there are transplants. I'm rooted in two opposite ends of the world — and everything I know about color, pattern, and home grew from that distance.

I hated yogurt the first time I tried it. But stirring that cold pink cup every day in Oregon was the closest thing I had to home — and it was the same motion that became a paint formula.