…and the chrysanthemums languish their sickly life in gardens made gloomy by their presence.

…the Japanese luxuriance of having only two apparent dimensions.

…the colourful existence of Japanese figures circling the teacups’ dull translucence.

A table set for a discreet tea – a mere pretext for perfectly sterile conversations – has always struck me as a kind of living thing, an individuality with soul. It forms, like an organism, a synthetic whole, which is not the mere sum of its component parts.