The senses are my grip

Eyes densely,

The song of the birds, the rustle of a shell path or the wind through the bamboo, every sound softened up in a sentiment;
The smells, that emotions and reminiscences appeal of the sweetest temptations, indispensable;
The eye, which is fed by the impression;
Feeling with your bareback feet, a par aesthesia, without sense there is no delight;
Thyme, Marjoram, without trial life is tasteless, plants give taste to the garden;
Wonderful dreaming and invent, energized by the garden

It is my grip, it is my inspiration.

Léon van Rijswijk, designer