Walls do not speak, yet some hum softly beneath the skin of silence.
They remember the hands that shaped them, the eyes that dreamed of balance.
Light pours through measured spaces — not to fill, but to reveal.
Every curve holds a purpose, every void an invitation.
It is not the marble or the glass that makes it alive,
but the soul that listens to rhythm within structure —
a house that breathes, as if architecture itself had learned to pray.
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