Tamara, Tre Sei

Tamara’s story begins in the quiet wonder of childhood, when her father sent her to study in Venice — a city where beauty seems to rise from the water itself. There, in the shade of old convent walls, her days unfolded between embroidered fabrics, beadwork, and small afternoon workshops. She watched, fascinated, as artisans from around the world shaped delicate metal threads into luminous creations. While other children played, Tamara stood still, eyes shining, absorbing every gesture as though it were a secret language meant only for her. Whenever she could, she tried to create something on her own — small experiments, tiny treasures made with the boldness of youth. As she grew, life invited her down different paths: she studied, became a secretary, mastered mechanical calculations, worked in offices, learned the rhythm of commerce. She loved music, evenings of laughter, the carefree sweetness of her age. But no matter how far she walked, art never stopped calling her by name. At just twenty, driven by instinct and passion, she opened her first shop. Then motherhood arrived — twice — with all its wonder and all its demands. She closed the store, knowing some dreams must rest so others can grow. For a while, she stepped back, devoting herself entirely to her children. But life tested her with a far darker chapter: her husband’s illness left her alone with two little ones and the weight of uncertainty. In that fragile moment, when many would feel lost, Tamara returned to the place where her strength had always lived — her hands.