Little was left: four stone walls, no roof, no floors, no interior. That shell was treated as the find it was — consolidated, kept, left legible — and the missing house was built anew from it. The result has two ages, and neither pretends to be the other.
Building inside a ruin forces a decision about what is inheritance and what is addition. Here the stone stayed stone, with its irregularities and its weight; what is new declares itself new, in drawing and in material. The joint between the two is not disguised — it is what tells the story of the house.
