choosing stone

In a warehouse in Greenpoint, marble slabs stood taller than doorways—lined up like pages in a heavy book. Each one different. Some cool and veined, others warmer, quieter. Some called out right away. Others needed a second look.

Stone is one of those decisions that lingers. There’s no switching it out next season. So the process becomes part instinct, part patience—standing still, watching how the light moves across the surface, listening for whatever feeling remains after the initial impression fades.

Renovating asks for a kind of time travel—making choices for the version of the house that doesn’t exist yet, while staying rooted in the person standing here now. The stone that stayed with me wasn’t the most dramatic, or even the most obvious. Just something that felt steady. Something I could live with quietly, for a long time.

-L