For Christmas, Trudon travels to the alleys of a Moroccan Enchanted Souk: warm hanging lights, colorful molten glass, golden-coppery accessories, all are an invitation to travel to the desert, mesmerized with visions and scents.

SCENT: In a hotel of Havana, under the fixed sun of the Revolution : the fierce and partisan overtones of leather and tobacco meddle with the paneling’s waxen silence. In the cool dimness, fawn grimaces shimmer along with the smoke of cigars and the barrels of guns.

Like precious Moroccan lanterns, every glass is handcrafted with care and decorated with gold leaves.