A room with nothing to hide

Last October, after rain had lifted the river beyond its banks, I stood beneath the elevated floor and watched the glass hold a changing gray sky. There was nowhere for the house to pretend. Every joint, plane, and decision appeared exactly as it was.

Precision is not the same as emptiness

That clarity is often mistaken for austerity. But the measured distance between column and glass makes room for weather, for reflection, and for the person who arrives carrying a wet coat. Restraint, here, is an invitation to notice what remains.