Everything in the room is in its place, yet somehow gently shifted by time. On the wooden desk — a faint ring from a cup, the yellowed edge of paper, a small hollow pressed into the cushion of the chair. The window is slightly open, and the air moves so slowly, it feels more like a memory than a breeze. The tea has long gone cold, but its scent still lingers — clear, bitter, like a sentence left unfinished. And deeper in the air, among paper and wood, there is the dry, warm breath of vetiver — like the weight of a letter you forgot, but can’t quite bring yourself to throw away. Nothing is said aloud, and yet everything remains.

Vetiver & Green Tea — a fragrance that doesn’t disappear, even when forgotten.