Some doors are made of trees.
Ships from Italy within 1–3 business days
500gsm · 100% cotton · Hahnemühle Photo Rag · Archival pigment inks · 6 × 18 cm · Matte finish.
Alberi series · 17 of 20 different sets.
Catalogue Nº 084 of 100.
Dispatched from Italy within 1–3 business days.
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Outside the forest: a phone that buzzes, a conversation you have not finished, a bag heavier than it needed to be, a half-dozen small worries that fit perfectly in a city. Inside the forest: cold air on the back of the neck, the sound of your own feet on the path, yellow light through the canopy in late October. Outside, you have things to do today. Inside, somewhere around the second hour, it becomes clear you do not.
Two beech trees frame the path into an autumn forest. They are the gate. The other trees behind them come in the same key. The leaves on the path are wet enough to be quiet. Whoever walks in here for the first time today is doing so under instructions nobody had to give them.
Reads alongside Walden by Henry David Thoreau, A Walk in the Woods by Bill Bryson, or any book read in a forest.
The thing about an old tree is that it has been doing the same thing in the same place for longer than any of us has been doing anything. Wars happened around it. Roads were built. Families lived nearby and then stopped living nearby. The tree dropped leaves every autumn and grew new ones every spring and never told anyone how long it had been keeping count. Stand under it for ten minutes and the rest of the week starts to look brief.
