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He clicked a link to a small gallery that worked directly with artisans in the Ashanti region. Scrolling through the gallery, he stopped. There, on a high-resolution preview, was a hand-carved stool. It wasn’t just furniture; it was a Sika Dwa style piece, etched with patterns that mirrored the scars on his grandfather’s hands.

The cursor blinked on the search bar of Elias’s laptop, a small beacon in his dimly lit London flat. He typed not looking for a decoration, but for a connection.

The "minimalist beige" didn't stand a chance. The room finally had a heartbeat again.