The Kitchen Where the World Comes Alive
Our kitchen is not just a place where soup is simmered or fish is fried. It is a workshop where every ingredient has a voice, and every flavor becomes a note. Here, the chef is like a creator: he doesn’t simply mix ingredients, he weaves destinies.
Bread rises from the oven like the sun — warm, breathing, with a crust that cracks as if opening the door to a new day. Coffee here is not a drink — it is a conversation. Bitter and honest, it awakens memory and invites you to look deeper. And compote — it is childhood in a glass, sweet and transparent, like summer in a garden where nothing is needed but sun and laughter.

On the table, there may be anything: fish with crisp skin, carrying the scent of sea and freedom; meat, full of the earth’s strength and patience; vegetables that have absorbed the silence of the fields. Each dish shifts the mood. Sometimes it leads to joy, sometimes to peace, sometimes to contemplation. There are no strict rules here — only the honesty of the ingredients and the love of the one who prepares them.
In this kitchen, everything becomes alchemy. Taste is a gateway through which a person is changed. And every dinner here is a small miracle of transformation.

Whispers of the Acacia

Miro and the Three Days

Lift your gaze

Igo and the Silence He Heard

Lucia and the Voice That Woke Up Late

I, Tejo, Architect of Unspoken Worlds

The Summit That Breathes Light

Where the Crickets Sing

To my grandmother Annushka

Odysseus

Victor’s plant

The Last Thirty Seconds

Lila’s Herbarium

When the Birds Return

Where Sound Ends: Ambient as a Way of Being

Not by path, but by memory

The bread rose in the oven

New Merch from giraffehome — Artifacts of Time on T-Shirts. Coming Soon

The Light Within

When the trees were small

Light through the window

I am giraffe tapes

The ocean

Analog vibes only

Priceless

A Lonely Tree Between Worlds

The Juggler from Childhood

The story of a certain rabbit

One Shot, One Chance

Reflection is looking at you

And we pretend to understand

A space of inspiration

Kundalini yoga at giraffehome

Love people not labels

Grandmother’s Rushnyks

Stay analog

Indian memories and captured radio waves via Rusted Tone Recordings

Film is not dead

Letters that were never sent

Sometimes a period is just a comma

Come to practice

The old wallpaper

Press play. Stay analog.

Play. Pause. Repeat.

What does the brick hide?

History speaks

Shunia mode

Photography isn’t just an image

The funicular glides slowly

Black and white symphony
