Buttercorn Pu-erh.

Description

The glass of the window has frosted with age, obscuring the curios within. There is an entire wall of lacquered ebony music boxes; their hand-painted gilding gleams however faded velvet inlays and stilted, dissonant melodies betray a notable passage of time. Behind them is a tiny room with rows of carved mahogany chairs. They’ve a uniformed assembly which excites a quiet anticipation. With the turn of a switch, everything is ensconced in darkness. The mechanical purr of an old projector fills the silence as a flickering beam of light reveals the lethargic levitation of drifting dust particles. A tiny clay teapot beckons a seat on the aisle. An old paper screen illuminates and the shadow play commences. Minutes become hours, lost to a cup of earthy tea and the myths and legends of the east.

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