reveal. Where San Jose compressed energy into intimate sequences of shadow and stone, San Leandro opens the aperture—here the corridors release into a double-height gallery where poured concrete meets floor-to-ceiling glass, and the canopy of old-growth Kentucky hardwoods becomes the only wall the house needs on its western face. The shift is immediate and visceral, as though the architecture has been holding its breath and finally exhales into a volume scaled to the surrounding landscape rather than against it. Light pools across polished aggregate floors in long parallelograms that migrate with the afternoon, and you understand that this threshold was designed not as a destination but as a launch, every material and proportion calibrated to carry you forward into what San Marcos will