Balmy sunlight distorts with the passing clouds. Refracting through skyscrapers and windshields, it eventually finds repose in a garden. The rows of flowers embrace its presence and in turn unpacks it for sustenance. A café terrace offers a candid view with entertainment provided by petunia and bergamot.

Kurama’s eyes carry a child’s verve coupled with sage reserve. He sits alone; the other patrons remain inside, away from the sultry afternoon. And so it goes.