A journey to Japan began with nothing but a backpack and a notebook, chasing a feeling that couldn’t be explained.

Along a quiet mountain path, tucked between trees, a small matcha shop appeared, run by a grandmother.
She taught the art of whisking slowly, watching the foam settle, and letting the first sip rest gently on the lips.
A lesson in care. A respect for ingredients.

Mori was born there.
Forest matcha.