In Nino’s boutique, you won’t find colorful trinkets or seasonal trends. Instead, the space is filled with raw, monumental forms: ceramic vessels with matte surfaces, as if freshly unearthed; wooden tables with rough-hewn legs; handwoven wool textiles dyed with natural pigments; stone bowls that could have been used in ancient rituals. The color palette? Almost monastic — greys, beiges, ochres, faded browns, and milky whites. A minimalism that doesn’t stem from fashion, but from a deep longing to return to the source.This place doesn’t advertise itself at every corner. You won’t find it on tourist maps. It’s visited by those who carry a quiet longing — for authenticity, for something that has outlasted time. Interior designers, artists, collectors from New York, Berlin, Tokyo. But also ordinary passersby, who step in by chance and… stay for an hour, in silence, touching the objects as if speaking to their ancestors.The boutique has existed for over a decade, and its reputation spreads in whispers — like a good story.It is no coincidence that Lisbon became the backdrop for this place. A city of melancholy, waves, and light that tells stories. A city of emigrants, poets, ceramicists, and wanderers. A meeting point between East and West — just like Nino herself, who brings echoes of the Caucasus, Anatolia, the Maghreb, and the Balkans.