MAI

From the ANIMALS collection

“Mai” enters the frame like an heirloom memory — a girl in an ivory dress with soft, puffy sleeves, the kind of garment once worn for ceremonies or childhood portraits. In her arms rests a lamb adorned with a pale satin ribbon, a creature suddenly transformed from pasture-wild to almost mythic, as though it has been welcomed into the inner chambers of her heart.

At our dinner tables, the conversations about the animals who follow us — the ones that insist on being ours — have grown into something of a family tradition. It started, as these things often do, with Mamma’s unquenchable curiosity. She wondered which creatures walk with each of us, not the lion or eagle of grand symbolism, but the quieter beings that slip in when our guard is down.

My friend — the one with the wild hair and the astonishing voice — said hers was the lamb.
And she could not understand why.
“I dream of them all the time,” she told us, “but they’re not jumping and I’m not counting.”
We laughed with her, because she had always imagined herself claimed by a wilder companion — a galloping horse, or perhaps even a unicorn.
Then, more softly:
“So what on earth am I supposed to do with a lamb?”

Mamma didn’t hesitate.
“You feed them,” she said, with the casual certainty of someone who has seen many truths arrive small and trembling.

My friend grew quiet then, her smile shifting into that veiled version of itself — the one full of private landscapes and unspoken understanding. She raised her glass to Mamma, as if accepting a kind of destiny.

Some weeks later, a letter arrived — she still writes real letters, the kind that feel like small spells delivered by hand.
“It’s working,” she wrote.
“I’m feeding them. And it’s working.”

Looking back now, years later, the truth glows clearer than ever:
Feeding the symbolic lamb — caring for what is tender, frightened, and profoundly alive — altered her life.
She began changing patterns, the kind that echo through generations.
She became one of the rarest forms of brave:
the person who decides, quietly and unwaveringly,
that the inheritance of pain stops with her.

“Mai” holds that spirit — the courage of softness, the power of tending what is still forming, the beauty of someone who has chosen gentleness as her revolution.

Digital artwork by photographer Hannah Lemholt
A blend of original photography and gentle digital alchemy

Available sizes:

– Postcard: 13.5 × 18.9 cm (fine art paper)
– Posters: 30 × 40 cm and 50 × 70 cm (fine art paper)
– Large Format: 70 × 100 cm printed on Tyvek, 7–10 days delivery
 Includes metal clips and cardboard rails for a casually cool, frameless display

All prints come with a white border and are embossed with the Love Warriors stamp — a quiet mark of truth, authenticity, and soul.