A property perched on one side off a cliff so dramatic it looked like architecture from another century, defiant, brutal, beautiful. The main house—three stories of raw concrete and floor-to-ceiling glass, cantilevered over like a middle finger to gravity, each level jutting further out, overhangs casting shadows like wings.
Concrete slabs—rough, textured, stained by salt air—contrasted with seamless glass that reflected ocean, sky, sun in shifting mirrors, waves crashing 500 feet below, spray misting the lower terrace.
An infinity pool on the second-floor terrace—womb-shaped, water warm, underwater lights pulsing in slow, heartbeat rhythm, spilling into the void like liquid birth. The top floor—open-concept, sheltered by a massive concrete roof, extending like a wing, wind howling through the gaps, salt stinging the air.
