Meher Rao spent years in a job with no room to breathe, back to back calls, a calendar that never had a gap in it. When her grandmother's old duplex house sat empty, she couldn't imagine tearing it down for something modern and glass fronted.
The house had a small terrace that caught the sunrise over the trees, the same terrace where Meher used to sit as a child before the day got loud. So she kept the staircase, the windows and the garden, and turned the rest into a cafe built around that one still hour of light.
Bloom begins with the sunrise, the terrace, the still hour of light. But the day doesn't rush past it: the same slowness carries through, all the way into the evening. It became the place Meher wished she'd had during those exhausting years, and now it's the place her neighbourhood has quietly claimed as their own.