What I Talk About When I Talk About Jewellery

In my memory, my mother kept a jewellery box for years, guarding her most cherished pieces. Among them was a white gold necklace she wore to work every day. Set with an unknown gemstone, it was simple yet elegant—and she loved it deeply.

That necklace still rests in my jewellery box today. Whenever I wear it, the cool metal against my skin evokes the warmth of her presence.
Twenty years have passed since she left. The other jewellery she treasured was gradually scattered by life's changing currents. For a long time, I searched for them obsessively, as though trying to reclaim pieces of lost time. Then one evening, holding this last remaining necklace, I understood—this was my mother's final lesson: that fulfilment comes not only from holding on, but also from letting go with grace.

During the rainy season in Shangri-La, I met an old miner. He opened his palm to reveal a raw rock crystal. Still bearing traces of mountain soil, its translucent form seemed to gather the overcast sky's soft light. "Stones remember all of time," he said, "just as hearts remember love."

In that moment, I understood what EON was meant to be.

Eon preserves stones in their natural forms because every texture is time's own handwriting. Like my mother's necklace—its clasp worn smooth, its gold softened with age—it has become more beautiful than when new. I've come to see that life's imperfections and losses are also gifts from time.

By the studio window, I often hold gems to the light, observing the worlds within. The rainbows trapped in quartz are billion-year-old raindrops; tourmaline's growth lines record the pulse of tectonic movements. When hand-carving wax, the molten flow slowly envelops the stone's edges—a process like smoothing time's wrinkles, allowing metal and stone to reach an eternal understanding.

A customer once wrote that she wore our ring through her wedding, childbirth, until the band molded perfectly to her finger. She said whenever she glances down at it, she remembers life's beautiful moments.

Now, with each completed piece, I imagine where it will go. Perhaps it will become a source of courage for some young woman, or witness vows kept till old age. And my mother's necklace—I still wear it often. The chain has grown softer with time, resting against my pulse as if still carrying her whispers.

These stones journey from deep mountains to walk through human lives. What they carry isn't just beauty, but the stories of time we leave one another.