K Shruti Reddy

AR2033

Somewhere in the misty lands of the western ghats, where fog clouded the roads as vehicles drove up slow as they could, passing by hills barren and lush. They pause at farm lands extending into infinity, watching cattle graze and farmers plough and are stopped by a building, one that stood alone in a sea of vineyards, with its roof reaching across and treading like a barrel. With it's delicate spaceframe stretching its arms across exhibits below, letting in just enough light to send back customers with a warm wine making and tasting experience.