most intimate sequence of spaces. Here the corridor's polished concrete underfoot gives way to a warmer walnut threshold, signaling the shift from Roseville's expansive transparency into Round Rock's more introspective geometry—a series of rooms that turn inward around a central courtyard wall of stacked limestone, each course rough-cut and deliberately uncoursed, as though the Kentucky karst itself had been invited to arbitrate between interior and exterior. The ceiling plane drops by nearly a foot, compressing your sightline and drawing attention to the clerestory ribbon that traces the room's perimeter, washing the limestone in a lateral afternoon light that transforms the stone's fossil-flecked surface into something almost geological in its narrative. It is a room that rewards stillness, a contemplative counterweight to the estate's grander gestures, and yet the sight line threading through its far opening already pulls you forward toward Sacramento's