FrancisRosenfeld
The room was large and not very brightly lit, a feature that had obviously been designed to create a relaxing ambiance and induce a meditative state.
Its calming features worked in concert with the soft muzak tunes and the cozy leather chairs, whose generous width and soft cushions cradled the body into a state close to sleep.
On the back wall there was a bar with under-lit glass shelving and strange looking bubbly bottles in unusual shapes and colors. They were all filled with liquids that looked better suited for a chemistry lab than for cocktail ingredients. The dark wood of the bar was topped with a bright white marble slab, streaked with deep green and bluish veins.
Oriental carpets, which looked a little worn but definitely expensive, covered every inch of the floor, overlapping in places, so there was no telling what kind of flooring lay underneath.
Here and there, on dark wooden side tables, generic ambient lights, elegant but subdued, cast a gentle glow.
The walls were the only element in the room that seemed designed to draw attention.
They were covered in intricate wooden inlay panels, not dark like the furniture, but in a range of warm golden oak hues, no two designs the same and with no discernible theme: exotic blossoms and twirling vines, geometric motifs, circular labyrinths, grids and landscapes, trompe l'oeils, flower garlands and abstract art.