Before there were stories, there were colors.
A little girl.
A blank page.
A handful of pencils.
And the simple question every child seems to know before anyone teaches it:
What if I make it my own?
That is where Morgan began.
Not with a long journey.
Not with a world already waiting for her.
Not even with a story.
She began on pages made to be colored.
There were small scenes, little discoveries, feelings that did not always need names, and enough empty space for a child to decide what happened next.
A dress could be blue today and yellow tomorrow.
A sky did not have to be blue at all.
A quiet face could mean whatever the child holding the pencil believed it meant.
And slowly, something happened.
Morgan was no longer only a little girl on a coloring page.
She began to have questions.
Then adventures.
Then stories.
And without any of us knowing it yet, those first pages were opening the very first door into Morgandélla Solenara.
🤍
The worlds she colored first
Before Morgan had stories of her own,
she had little worlds waiting for color.
Some were filled with feelings.
Some with dreams.
Some with the quiet things children notice long before adults remember to look.
They became collections — not because they were meant to fit neatly on a shelf, but because some ideas seemed to belong beside one another.
And each collection became another small way into Morgan’s world.
Emotions
The first of those little worlds was made of feelings.
Not the loud ones only.
Not only happiness, sadness, anger, or fear.
But also the feelings that are harder to name —
the ones that hide in a look,
in a small gesture,
in the way a child chooses one color instead of another.
That became Emotions.
A collection where Morgan does not tell children what they should feel.
She simply stays on the page with them.
Sometimes she smiles.
Sometimes she wonders.
Sometimes she is quiet.
And the child holding the pencil decides the rest.
There is no right color for a feeling here.
No right way to understand a face.
No answer waiting at the bottom of the page.
Only a little girl,
a handful of pencils,
and enough room for something inside a child to become visible.
Perhaps that is what these first books were always meant to be.
Not pages waiting to be colored perfectly.
Pages waiting for a child to make them their own.
🤍 🤍 🤍
→ Enter the Emotions Collection
