A chain of silver charms whispers like constellations drawn across the collarbone. The Starling Hour hangs delicate but resolute — a lilac-faced star-watch suspended as the heart of the piece, flanked by celestial and earthly totems.
Butterflies of fragile pink glass, a crescent moon encrusted with stardust, and a spiral that unravels endlessly — all orbit the keeper’s neck in a ritual of beauty and mystery. Every charm is a fragment of memory: fleeting, luminous, impossible to hold for long.
This necklace is not merely adornment; it is a spell, a twilight hymn that binds time, flight, and light together. Worn close to the throat, it becomes a promise: that even in the fading of hours, wonder survives.
“He counts the stars and calls them all by name.” — Psalm 147:4
