It takes a tiny village

Sometimes I have these weird fantasies of living on a big chunk of land nestled in a city somewhere, some kind of disused lumberyard or factory site, and building a compound-type deal where me and all my cool friends can live and let the dogs run and all the kids can rip-stick around in the abandoned SUV showroom and we can show The Sound of Music every night on a big outdoor screen...

When I saw these little houses, I saw the perfect shelter type for my smelly bohemian reverie; imagine a village of these sleek structures, nestled amongst oak and thistle, arranged in a rough circle around the communal Celebration House, where (of course) there would be Wii tournaments and avant-garde blues jams and public shamings. Oh, think of it.