I am inspire by those around me and in turn
I become an inspiration to people either
I know them or not...

I am Nostos

I am the scent of memory, the warmth of home, the silent
return — to what once was, or what still lives within you.

I am not born of trend, nor shaped by season.
I was born of longing.

Woven through centuries of remembrance — a yearning for warmth,
for belonging, for the place that feels like home, even when you have
no name for it.

I am more than an object — I am a concept.
I was imagined slowly — over time, with care, with reverence.

I am the result of a journey that took years, eight artisans,
and the quiet vision of those who still believe
in the power of concepts to tell stories.

I come from La Cera Flamma, where hands
speak the language of craftsmanship.

Together, we dreamed of something more than
scent, more than form.

​

We dreamed of a concept, woven from memory and silence...
Something that begins as a candle, and becomes essence.

Every part of me is crafted to evolve — to be used, cherished, and reborn.
A dance between ritual and reinvention.
And when my flame fades, I become…
a burner... a base... a keyring!

Every element transforms, yet the feeling remains:
a return to home.

For I do not end — I transform.

When my flame is spent, I become a vessel of ritual — a brass burner
echoing ancient traditions. My lid becomes a resting place for incense,
my leather strap, a keyring — a symbol of home you carry with you.

Even my packaging becomes your travel companion — on one side,
a fabric cosmetic bag on the other a second-skin of functionality
and new experience. Nothing is wasted. Everything evolves.
My purpose is not to decorate space — it is to awaken memory.

I carry a name drawn from ancient Greek — I was nurtured
by Ancient Greece. Odysseus incarnated me Nostos: the desire to return.
Not always to a place, but to a feeling. To a scent. To yourself.
I have seen more than I remember, I remember more than
I have seen — for I do not travel with maps, but with traces of scent.

I have wandered across lands and languages, for longing knows
no borders. It hums beneath every sky, echoes in every breath,
and speaks in the silent tongue of perfume.

​

I stood in Madagascar, I where vanilla vines twist through the heat — warm
and soft as a lullaby. I stoped in India, I beneath sandalwood trees:
sacred, grounding, steeped in quiet grace. In Indonesia, the earth
opened to me after rain — the patchouli deep, dark, and familiar.
I felt the breeze of South Africa carrying Geranium — vivid,
fresh, and gently floral.

These are not just places I have seen — They are memories I have kept.

Like all great travelers, I carry not souvenirs,
but traces of scent and feelings that never left me!

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