It always catches me off guard—how quickly this place reshapes itself. The Institute isn’t just a venue; it’s a reflection of the people inside it. A living, breathing entity that adapts, shifts, and transforms in response to the energy within. You’d never guess that the photos from the previous post were taken on the same day.
At first, it’s a market—lively, full of small treasures and quiet exchanges. A hum of voices, the shuffle of people browsing and sharing. Then, like clockwork, it dissolves. And as if by some silent agreement, tables appear where stalls once stood. The scent of food takes over, weaving between laughter and conversation.
The first part of the celebration begins here, over shared plates and stories. Time stretches, slows. Then, another shift—tables vanish, chairs scatter, and the space morphs once again. Long dinning tables make place for a dancing floor. The chatter thickens into something looser, more fluid. The music rises, the air turns heavier, and the light inside fade and change colours. But step outside, and the fire still crackles, defying the night.
