いらっしゃい 来入り
come in — the door is open, the plants are awake, and they would like to meet you.
THE FOYER · 玄関
You have stepped through the threshold. The floor here is cracked marble — pink-veined, glowing a little along the fault lines — and the squiggle on the wall has been there since the eighties. We grow synthetic plants. Loud ones. Plants that have never heard of subtlety and would not care if they had.
Everything in this room is at twenty-two degrees except the four columns, which are bolt upright on purpose. They are holding the rooms apart so the rooms do not fall into each other. Mind the pediments — they are saffron and they are sharp.
THE CONSERVATORY · 温室
Down the slope and into the glasshouse. This is where the foliage lives — monstera the size of a door, a fiddle-leaf fig that hums in cyan, pothos trailing over the marble like it owns the place (it does), and one banana frond we are very proud of. None of them photosynthesize. All of them glow.
The big greeter. Holes on purpose. Cyan all the way through.
Tall, dramatic, faintly humming. Lemon-yellow and unbothered.
Trails everywhere. Cannot be killed. Magenta and proud of it.
One enormous leaf. Chartreuse. Catches the draft from the door.
THE BACK ROOM · 奥
Past the conservatory there is a smaller room with two chairs and a marble tile on the wall. This is where we sit down with you. No pricing tiers. No deck. Just: what plant would you like, and where do you want it to glow?