You can tell within seconds whether a room was made for the people in it or for the people who will see it later. The first kind has worn arms on the chairs and books with broken spines. The second kind has a corner that exists only at 35mm.
Rooms with their backs turned
The unphotographed room is not careless — it is private. Its choices answer to use, to memory, to the specific slant of afternoon light, and to no one else.
A home is finished when it stops performing.