III. the experience
Your private salon hour.
A choreography.
I.
The arrival.
The door is found, not announced. Brass on stone, a hairline of
copper, your name remembered as you cross the threshold.
II.
The drink.
Espresso or champagne, chosen for the hour. Brought without
being asked, set down without ceremony.
III.
The chair.
The chair faces the window. Mirrors face away during the work.
Conversation only if you bring it; silence if you prefer.
IV.
The mirror.
Returned to you slowly. The hair is examined first by the hand,
then by the eye, then by the room.
V.
The goodbye.
No counter. No queue. The card is presented in a bone envelope,
sealed in copper. You leave the way you arrived — through a
door, by your own name.