A land of similar faces that intently stare as they brush past. There are frequent steps of uneven footing and an unbearable heat that hits ones like a brick wall. The sounds of horns and hoards of bodies pour into the space, absolving the cleanliness and starkness of the inside.
It is here that I sit in a marble encased vortex of fabric and suits. The ceilings attempt a stunning mimic at Italian chapel style paintings. A setting that exudes tradition with its echos of wisdom of one generation past.
A neatly heather style check fabric wrapped in plastic, so fine that it considers falling off the sleek marble.
A culture built on a late start, long lunch and disorganization. Yet, one that breeds quality, detail and exquisite silks.
A lost sense of purpose is rediscovered as it feels as though this was all waiting here for us. Matters of home seem insignificant but the future looms clear.