The hallway that brings you here is lined with paintings, each one worth slowing down for. Past them, a door. And beyond it, the
outside world waiting to be stepped into. There is a warmth to this room that isn’t just the light, though the light does something
particular here too. The Saffron is unhurried, quietly generous, the kind of place that changes the quality of an afternoon without
announcing how. It opens outward. So does everything it asks of you.