In the throes of 2021's pandemic peak, the world as we knew it ground to an uneasy halt. The impact of COVID-19 was profound and far-reaching. The virus swept across the globe, disrupting nearly every aspect of life and leaving a trail of devastation in its wake. 

Communities once vibrant and bustling were suddenly stilled by waves of uncertainty. We, the denizens of a rapidly changing world, found ourselves in a strange kind of limbo. And yet, even in the stillness, something held. The pandemic revealed the resilience of individuals and the quiet strength of their villages. By necessity, home became the center of it all. It became the place where we retreated, adapted, connected, and tried to grasp the weight of what was happening around us.

As the pandemic brought distance and stillness, people began turning toward what felt familiar and grounding. Vintage shops, local artisans, and neighborhood bookstores, once considered peripheral, quietly revealed themselves as the keystones they had always been. These spaces became places of comfort, connection, and a sense of continuity. In a time marked by isolation, they reminded us of what endures. 

Since then, our love for vintage has become a way of seeing. Guided by wabi sabi, we embrace what is weathered, irregular, and quietly evolving. These objects arrive softened by use, shaped by time, and full of presence. They remind us that value lives in what lasts. And that what we choose to keep, keeps something of us in return.