monoblock monstera by wanda.direct in Bucharest

You know, this chair... it’s kind of surreal if you think about it. I could be anywhere in the world right now—anywhere—and this chair wouldn’t feel out of place. A dusty road in India, a beach in Mexico, someone’s balcony in Europe, or a backyard barbecue in the States. Same chair, same slightly awkward design. You sit in it, and suddenly it doesn’t matter where you are—it feels like every corner of the world has one of these. It’s not elegant, but it works, doesn’t it? And yet, here I am, in this one spot, on a warm summer night, surrounded by the quiet hum of life. The air smells like grass, there’s a breeze, and it feels like time is holding still. Next to me, this monstera, thriving, no matter how many times I forget to water it. It’s funny, really—a plant and a chair, two completely different worlds. One is alive, growing, adapting; the other is synthetic, designed to never change. And yet, somehow, they sit together, like they belong. It makes you wonder—what’s more enduring? The plastic we make to last forever, or the plant that finds a way to survive wherever it lands? Maybe the chair and the monstera aren’t so different after all. They’re just... here, existing. And me? I’m just sitting, trying to figure out what it all means.