You arrive here still carrying the street. The noise, the movement, the particular energy of a city that never quite lets you go. The
Provenance doesn’t ask you to leave any of it at the door. It simply holds space until you’re ready to put it down yourself. Art settled
on the mantel. A mirror that catches light the way memory catches detail, partially, beautifully. Every room has a story of how it came
to be exactly this. This one wears it quietly.