'Harmony doesn't seem extraordinary until you have known [her] for a while. [She] knows how to be gentle, and such gentleness is surprisingly powerful. The silence around [her] is lyrical. If I sit in [her] kitchen in the late afternoon and drink ginger tea, by the time I am ready to go home the contradictions inside my head are no longer shouting at me and trying to tear me apart. [She] gives me space to be my whole self.

It may be hard to believe it now, but there was a time when Harmony was afraid to leave [her] house. I am not sure about the whole story. In college [she] was an outstanding athlete, and [she] won many prizes. One summer when [she] was training intensively, [she] became dissatisfied with the whole set-up. Torn apart inside, [she] could no longer keep [her] balance. [She] alienated many of [her] friends with [her] tirades about hypocrisy and ugliness. Frustrated with people, [she] took long walks in the neighboring countryside. [She] found sanity in the geometry of old buildings and started dreaming about how to organize spaces in which [she] could feel more comfortable, thus, stumbling into the profession of architecture through a back door. [She] has learned how to design rooms which evoke different aspects of ourselves. Although [she] is a meticulous architect, she is no longer fussy and alienated. [She] can go anywhere now. Simply by being [herself], [she] alters the current in the field around [her].'