A man and his wife always loved to listen to the blues. A lot of blues. Loud — most of the times. And there could be no better place for their obsession than a forest. So, they built a black house there. With a white soul inside. The house of blues.
The family wished for a high central living space in which melancholic music would fill their home and reach every room. They would open the glass façade in summer and sit outside on a large wooden deck, an interstitial space between bluesy rhythms and peaceful birds singing. They would be picking boletus for dinner in their front yard and let the wild nature thrive right into the kitchen. They would never forget to have some good white wine with a couple of friends. And they got it all. And they will live long enough in a house that always has the blues.