On its corner plot, Villa La presents itself to the city like a musical score: a sequence of white curved vertical sails rising above a grey mineral base and an overflowing hedge. Neither wall nor facade in the classical sense — rather a built swell, where each shell shelters a room, frames a view, protects an intimacy.

The project answers a simple question: how do you inhabit a plot exposed to two streets without retreating behind blind walls? The answer is a thick, sculpted facade. The white rendered sails, with their rounded returns, overlap like the folds of a curtain: they open generous glazing toward the light while screening neighbouring views, filter the afternoon sun and carve deep loggias with glass balustrades. At sunset the composition reveals its full dimension — each shell catches the raking light, peach and gold on one side, blue shadow on the other, and the house becomes a sundial at the scale of its neighbourhood.

The base plays the counterpoint: a taut, abstract grey perimeter wall, punctuated by a timber-slat gate and the number 19, softened by vegetation — a dense hedge, ornamental grasses, palms whose silhouettes are drawn against the curves. To the rear, the villa opens generously onto its garden: double-aspect living spaces behind large glazing, a terrace sheltered under a curved canopy, a lawn and a pool in which the sails find their reflection.

Villa La demonstrates that a house can be both urban sculpture and domestic refuge — an architecture noticed from afar and lived from within, in the softness of light that is always staged.