A place returns, unnamed.

There is a moment before recognition. Before the name of a town, the number of a room, the face of someone waiting. A place comes back as cold air, salt on linen, the wood of a temporary room.

Between Coasts is an imagined fragrance for that interval. Bergamot peel and wet metal give way to white tea, salt linen and pale iris. Cedar, worn leather and dry musk are what remain. These are working notes, not a finished formula.

The vessel holds the same idea in glass. A familiar form, interrupted by an angled base: the mark left after the tide. A container for distance, waiting to be filled.