Citrinia

Goddess of Domestic Sunlight

The name “Citrinia” is born from a poetic fusion of the Latin citrus — evoking lemon, citrus fruit, freshness, and pale light — with a feminine suffix that turns it into a presence, a spirit, a mythical figure.

It is not an ancient name, but it feels like one.

It seems to come from a forgotten language, from a story written on the back of light

She belongs neither to the sky nor the earth.

Citrinia lives in the still air of long afternoons, when light bounces between curtains and thoughts, and even melancholy smells like ripe lemon.

She wears a kaftan not made of fabric, but of memory: of quiet rooms, tropical gardens, and unspoken words that warm like sunlight.

She doesn’t speak — she doesn’t need to.

Her presence alone makes the shadows softer.

She protects the women who endure with gentleness, who know the power of not acting, who smile faintly when no one is watching.

Citrinia is not fire, nor flame: she is warmth that lingers.

She is gold that doesn’t shout.

She is yellow that heals.