forward into the walk-through closet where wide-plank flooring gives way to hand-laid stone and the air shifts from the warmth of finished living space to something cooler, more purposeful, lined with custom millwork deep enough for tall boots and waxed canvas and the quiet gear of a life lived between paddock and parlor. This is the corridor that makes the equestrian promise of Prospect real rather than decorative, a transition zone where the i64 corridor's proximity to world-class facilities meets the private rituals of preparation, and every surface — the oiled bronze hooks, the bench seat worn smooth at sitting height — speaks to daily use rather than occasional display. The passage narrows just enough to feel intentional, drawing you forward toward a quieter register of light where the stone underfoot warms again and the ceiling lifts, and you begin to sense that what waits ahead has nothing to do with horses at all but with the restoration of the body that rides them,