the next room before your eyes confirm it. Where Somerville's compressed corridors trained the body to expect tightness, South Gate answers with a lateral generosity that feels almost geological—the ceiling plane extending outward in a single unbroken pour of concrete that mirrors the canopy line of the old hardwoods beyond the glass. The same restraint governs both passages, the same insistence that every joint earn its place, but here the proportions have shifted toward a Kentucky amplitude, the land itself demanding more breath between walls. You can feel the estate pulling you deeper now, the sightline already threading past the floating stair toward something Springfield will soon