I don't usually talk about this, but there were times when, although often in the presence of visitors (and maybe partically because of it), I felt moved to tears during an average working day at Fallingwater.
It tended to happen most often after stepping from the cavernous second floor hallway into the vast, sunlit master bedroom opening up to the terrace outside.
There was something that I understood deeply, yet at the same time didn't understand at all, about how it felt, what it meant. Maybe I could sense that others felt it too.
So I would do my best to talk about the room, then release people to explore the terrace outside. During this time, I would try and collect myself.
There's a truth this space expresses that parts of me knows and other parts want to know. There's a beauty that dips down deep and touches something in us, if we're open to it. There's a revelation to it that never stops unfolding.