Tis’ be a melodious saudade of two wandering souls with eyes like fire, Treading trails that never tire. Not bound by borders, flags, or fame, but stirred by art that dares reclaim.

They walk the road less etched by feet, Where sawdust dreams and rainbows meet. Designers not by book or rule, But by the strings of the mystical and old.

Bohemian Homes boasts of its evil eye charms , Warding shadows, casting calm . Day in day out with carving frames of vintage dastan, In oval memories with a musical hygge

We grace Gods reimagined in colors bold, Not lost—but loved in a modern fold, Not locked in temples or dusty lore, For they’ve been shining circa 2017.

The charm of English blooms, French mirrors, Oriental whispers stretched for miles; A Moroccan dusk, an Irish pine, a forlorn shell with a fish sign. We hammer art long ignored,dust them off, give them accord. Every crack, a tale reborn—Of things once lost, now proudly adored .

Two bohemians with a rebellious eye, Turning echoes into lullabies. Creating homes where stories sway, And vintage karigari comes out to play. So if you find them on your street, With paint in hand and bare, brave feet— Know this: they’re here to heal , your walls ,your heart and your feels!