I turned down a bigger space twice.
A larger shop means older flowers.

Masaru Kawaguchi opened the shop in the autumn of 2013 in a narrow ground-floor space in Fukuoka's Chuo Ward. The name came from the view he had every morning cycling to the wholesale market: low mist sitting over the rice paddies on the
city's western edge, catching the light before the day warmed up. The first few months were lean. He had one refrigerated case, a folding table, and a handwritten price board. Most of his early customers were neighbours who stopped in out of curiosity.

The turning point came in the spring of 2015, when a small hotel in Daimyo asked if he could supply their lobby with a weekly arrangement. That single account forced him to think more carefully about longevity. Which varieties hold for five days
in an air-conditioned room, which ones collapse by Tuesday. He started keeping a notebook of what worked and what didn't, variety by variety, season by season. That notebook is still on the counter, considerably thicker now, and he still adds to it.