Tastes and textures of life
- Myriam C. Placeres
- Nov 4
- 4 min read
It’s 5:55 am. I can smell the fresh lavender next to my pillow, the one I grabbed on my way to the sea the previous day.
I put on my Piel del Alma hand-made kaftan, a piece I adore because of its softness and the tender touch of its fabric caressing my skin.
The sun is coming out behind the Greek mountains in Elounda village. The ocean is clear and calm; it reminds me of Pokhara’s lake in Nepal, where I would take a canoe from my house to my energy work school to practice chakra massage, yoga, and learn about astrology.
I sit down on the small balcony of my hotel room in Crete and stare at the sun bathing me with its light, its radiance, its luminosity.
The simplest moments in life — how much joy they can bring us. To witness nature is to witness life. To contemplate nature is to see our nature, our connection to the ocean, the mountains, the sun, and the earth.
The coffee is ready, and the smell is bathing my friend’s gorgeous kitchen. Some are serving tea with honey and almond milk. I bring cacao from Mexico — the rawest, purest cacao I have tried so far.
There’s something about breakfast and colorful tables — the way the colors of the fruits, the texture of bread, the smell of butter — that makes us bow to the food while our palate salivates.
My friend Clementina is truly a master at setting up tables. Her table designs are an extension of her life: experimental, playful, artistic, full of love and care for others.
I’ve known Clementina since 2017; we met in London when I was traveling for work during Fashion Week. It was one of those soul encounters destined to happen. We became more than friends; we became sisters while living together in Mexico. I still remember those days in the turquoise waters of Tulum, eating our secret dessert while watching the sunset together.
It's somehow June 2024, and we are in the beautiful Italian countryside, chopping calabacines to create her signature pasta. Did I mention the color and texture of these calabacines? They are just full of life, vida! A contemplation of their own, and a ritual — to cut fruit and vegetables, to smell the life, the sun, the water they carry within.
Riserva Sant'Agostino is a magical place. It has become Clementina’s home, a place where beauty, creativity, and nature are the protagonists. This place is a true escape for the senses and the soul.
Italia, I love you!
We drive to Lago d’Iseo — an enchanting lake. I keep thinking of the Naiades and feel them calling me to make an altar, to give form to their tale. Their song is strong. I know I must bathe in these waters. I close my eyes, go underwater, and ask my body and aura to listen to the secrets and myths of these nymphs. I trust that when the creation visits, they will come alive.
Between mountains and lake, I glimpse subtle realms: an initiation whispering to my cells. There is something about mountains — how they change me, elevate me, teach me every time I approach them. How different I breathe, the tales they sing to me. This time is no different. I can feel the old starting to say goodbye, and more of my natural frequency remembering me. I am not sure, “Do I remember you too?” I wonder.
The Ocean is powerful here. I can listen to the waves from my window. The Ocean is calling me, pulling me towards it — like the woman who finds her soul-skin calling her back into the sea. I tell my partner I am restless. He looks at me, trying to understand, but I can sense his confusion, so I prefer to take a walk.
The energy is strong — deep, magnetic, and ancient. Saying hello to the land, the food, the plants, and the people is my medicine for stability and calm.
There’s something about the movement of the sea and the feminine energy of this land, Crete — it makes me want to write and write. I wake up early to watch the sunrise. I buy a hot beverage. I return to my temporary home, open my computer, and start pouring out words.
It’s 11 am. The sea continues whispering to me. I slowly walk to the shore and bathe my feet. I grew up in the Caribbean sea, yet these waters feel different—denser, ancient, more feminine. I know that once I enter them, a new cycle will quietly begin.
The oceanic knowing feels deep in my bones. I lay down on the sunbed. There’s a feeling I know too well — a slow movement inside myself. I smile. The transmission moves faster than my words.
I sleep for four hours — medicinal, potent, pure alchemy. A medicinal siesta, different but alike. The sensations, the poetry, the vibrations — I remember you. I visit you often when I create, when I guide, when I write.
I am here in Greece, reconnecting with lost parts of myself. My womb wants to be heard. My creative palace is taking up space. My heart is beating with grace.
The richness of the exquisite food, the new (but dare I say old) flavors my body remembers — they sink as anchors for the stories I am here to write (and live). The sunset, the moon, the herbs — ancient allies I will come back to again. I part ways as a queen, reborn from the underworld, with my royal vestments: a dress, a skirt, a gown. Soft invocations to remind me, I must return here again.
After bathing in Greek waters, something quiet yet profound stirred within me. It marked the beginning of many months of reimagining the universes that live as extensions of my aura. IAMARA’s temple has since become the home of soft invocations—sacred adornments and jewels that hold their own whispers of beauty as a path of devotion. And through my personal portal, myriamplaceres.com, you are welcome to explore the subtle realms of my 1:1 sessions, where presence, sensuality, poetry, and energy come together in intimate guidance.
All of it—my writing, creations, and sessions—emerges from the same root: a devotion to beauty, subtlety, and the tender ways we can live closer to our senses.
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