Hotel Kraus is the home of a certain manner. European in its patience, Texan in its nerve. Mornings begin with letters. Evenings end in the bar. Between the two, the house keeps its own time.
Burgundy and gold, swung from gilded brackets – the signature announces the house before the door does.
Written once more, in gold on glass.
The list, set in burgundy ink.
Every artefact is a letter, signed in ink.