I remember the first conversation very well: ‘I have a plot in that neighborhood, it's right next to the park. I would like to build a simple, discreet house... And practical, very practical’. Maybe she was talking to me about that idealized practicality? The one that we think will lead us to happiness, and then we realize that what we want is to blow the trumpet or climb a very high summit. I am sorry, but what I was really interested in was that park. 

And the peace of discreet houses, those that are not being loud. Two horizontal planes of concrete define this simple construction that is stretched over a meadow. Between sky and ground, a skin of wooden planks stoically resists being pressed by the bulk of both, while enveloping everything that is necessary to be practically happy.

The park house playfully dissolves the boundaries of its terrain. On the south side, there is a garden that the house openly contemplates, it extends beyond the bushes beautifully integrating itself into the park. To the north, there is an orchard both charming and ephemeral, which reminds us of how generous the land is. And, in the street, concealed by the opal glass, a maple-tree, boastful of its beauty, invites us to whisper to ourselves that nothing is what it seems.