The certainty with which the coffee table was designed,
The selection of the metal.
The precision of the corners.
Its relationship with the light,
Betrayed the individual, for whom it was designed.
The entire space
An ensemble of crimson brick, Murano glass, and natural light,
Bespoke of a man, who was interested in the details.
The composition of a thing.
Ne plus ultra.
This is why the floors were imported from Burma.
And why the shelves were composed of titanium, borrowed from the Ural Mountains in Siberia.
It was also why the bare particles of rouge, melded with ivory, created a malleable pink hue. This was the embrace in which the silk was entangled with its linen counterpart. The bond created by two textiles whose fibers were immersed and interlaced in such a manner, that can only be described as love.
This was the office stationary.
This was the fifth floor loft, located at Prince & Mercer Street.
This was Mulberry Design.
This was the indelible imprint of a man, who wanted to do something.
Who wanted to contribute.
And so he set his attention,
Made his priority the aesthetic.
Would not place his name on a thing, if the details did not tell a story.
Because the details were important to Max Mulberry.
Which is why the disappearance of his best friend,
Troubled him so.
Implode. Part II – DK