On Sullivan’s Island, just a few steps from the Atlantic surf, there sits a home that seems more like a prop from a science-fiction movie than a seaside retreat. Locals call it the Star Wars House, though its real name is the Eye of the Storm—and once you see its gleaming curves and domed silhouette, you understand why. It looks part seashell, part space station, and entirely unlike anything else on the Carolina coast. The house was born from heartbreak and determination. In

Tucked between brick buildings in Boston’s historic North End—where the streets are tight and the stories tighter—stands a home that looks like it got caught mid-squeeze. Just 10 feet wide at its widest point, narrowing to barely over six feet in others, the Skinny House isn’t just small. It’s a statement. Locals call it the Spite House. And like any good legend, it begins with a feud. The story goes that two brothers inherited land after the Civil War. One went off to fight

Some homes are designed. Others are imagined—and then sculpted into being. Tucked into the tree-lined calm of suburban Bethesda, on a quiet corner that seems like any other, sits a house that refuses to blend in. It bubbles up from the earth like a dream half-remembered, all smooth curves and strange beauty. People call it the Mushroom House. Or the Smurf House. Or, simply, that  house. But whatever you call it, you won’t forget it. This is not a home that followed blueprint