夜土：关于爱、粪便与停车

On love, shit, and parking By Kristin Dombek T he architect’s wife was a real estate agent who’d gotten a tip about a midcentury modern gem on a cul-de-sac north of the city, and they’d wanted it. They’d been able to put in a premarket offer and buy it. After the architect’s tasteful renova- tion, its several levels were both airy and cozy, an arrangement of rooms unfolding from an entryway two stories tall, like a house in a magazine, so much glass and warmth. His dream house, she whispered on a deck that was a third or fourth living room but outside, shaded by a colossal magnolia tree. …