Years were spent across Asia-Pacific, at the source of the wood itself.
In the northeast of India, in Assam, wild Aquilaria trees stand in forests that have not been planted or managed. Their resin is animalic, honeyed, deep — the product of infection, not intention. A mold, Phialophora parasitica, wounds the heartwood, and the tree answers by turning that wound into scent. This house spent time with people who read a tree by hand — pressing, smelling, knowing before cutting whether the wood inside was worth the cut.
On the Cambodia–Thailand border, in the Highland Khmer groves, the wood answers differently. Cleaner. Clearer. A smoke without heaviness.
Between these two woods, this house learned ember-curing — agarwood cured over live coals, not stainless steel. Slower. Riskier. The oil that results is darker, deeper, smokier than anything a distillation tank can produce. It cannot be rushed and it cannot be imitated.