On a narrow stretch in the village precinct, one could almost miss it. It was an utterly non-descript, stand alone structure, ,that had to be converted into a restaurant with a bakery- not a fine dine ,but a casual place. A place for conversation without inhibition. Simply put, a place for people.

My first instinct formed. An apt storyboard came into focus. I saw 2 young guys that had just inherited this house and had no money left. The parents had problems, lost everything over the years and all they had was this rambling place that spoke of the once rich past. The place now had furniture that looked like it was pulled out of a warehouse and walls that revealed layers of age.

This was not a glorious antique-it was a run down villa that belonged to someone well-lived and well-travelled and lost it all. A piece of everybody’s past-your’s or a friend’s.