Some rooms you admire. This one you remember. The highest point in the house, with Table Mountain beyond the window, ancient
and indifferent in the most reassuring way. The Patina is what accumulates when time is allowed to do its work slowly, the quiet depth
that can’t be applied or purchased, only earned. You feel that up here. Not in the view, though the view earns its place. In something
older and harder to name.