At Casa Pueblo, when dusk arrives, the world no longer divides itself between interior and exterior. Villaró's walls simply open - as if the architecture itself refused boundaries - and six figures occupied one of the many terraces that spiraled downward toward the Atlantic sunset. Alfredo Zitarrosa's voice sang "La maza," and the rhythm of the song about resistance and work filled the space as if it were the very heartbeat of the house: "La maza golpea, golpea sin cansancio..." Daniel Kahnem...

At Casa Pueblo, when dusk arrives, the world no longer divides itself between interior and exterior. Villaró's walls simply open - as if the architecture itself refused boundaries - and six figures occupied one of the many terraces that spiraled downward toward the Atlantic sunset. Alfredo Zitarrosa's voice sang "La maza," and the rhythm of the song about resistance and work filled the space as if it were the very heartbeat of the house: "La maza golpea, golpea sin cansancio..." Daniel Kahnem...