The bathroom feels like stepping inside a lantern. Smooth walls glow with hidden backlighting, and water hums softly from a spout carved straight out of the wall.
He calls it “the quietest room.” The sink is a single piece of stone, hollowed and polished until it feels like satin beneath the hands. A small window cuts through the outer rock, framing a slice of sky.
“It rains in here sometimes,” he says with a grin. “Condensation, but I let it happen—it keeps the cave breathing.”
Steam rises, curls along the walls, and the air smells faintly of mineral and cedar. Even bathing here feels like archaeology turned luxury.
