This home interacts with the street in a hostile manner. Its stark and barren facade conceals almost everything going on inside. Even the lonely windows on the front are obscured by a tree.

In a world where many people are trying to reclaim some calm and privacy, I'm not unsympathetic to the desire to project your need for inner peace loudly. But in practice I think we could all use more community in our lives, and this house doesn't just create privacy.

The facade

It tells you to f*ck off, and this could be your message to the world for a mere $5M.

Inside: minimalism, all the way down

Aside from the anti-social facade, let's look at what this shrine to privacy conceals within its walls. You enter into an open floor plan kitchen and great room. The kitchen is… minimalist. Lots of space, but it doesn't exactly scream gourmet chef. I am envisioning a fridge full of perfectly portioned meals with zero variety.

The great room has a wall of windows to the backyard. Inexplicably the doors themselves are not glass, creating a break in your view between the inside and outside. The other mystery about the great room is what is inside the absolutely enormous wall of built-in cabinets. The shelves reach so high you need a rolling ladder to access them.

Is this where all the clutter hides? Is there a large collection of Magic the Gathering cards in here? Why are these cabinets and not shelves? Visually you end up looking at a wall of white instead of interesting tchotchkes, books, and art pieces.

The backyard: a Japanese garden, almost

The backyard is Japanese garden inspired. It features not one but two dining table areas — though how you would cook for that many people in a kitchen with minimal counter space is a question. Maybe it was designed to host silent meditation gatherings where no food is served.

There is a firepit without any seating around it. Another mystery. Who starts a fire and then doesn't want some seating around it to be cozy?

I just don't get these decisions.

Upstairs: a wall of books (the most humanizing moment)

Moving upstairs we enter into a bedroom. There is a wall of books — the most humanizing moment of this property so far. They look large and arty though, so let's not get carried away imagining this as the house of someone who is a prolific reader of novels or even non-fiction.

The bathroom is expectedly clinical in its vibes.

The third floor: a "bedroom" with no doors

The real mystery here is what the rest of the layout of this house is doing. The third floor transitions back into a living room space plus what is labeled a bedroom in spite of the fact that there are no doors. Nice modern built-ins. Lots of floor space, though — this house is not telling you to make yourself cozy and comfortable. It's telling you to not make any clutter, and to be seen and not heard.

The fourth floor: skylights only

The fourth floor of this conundrum is another bedroom/workspace, I guess. There is a bathroom as equally spartan as the last. The bedroom itself seems to only have skylights. God forbid you should attempt to take in the scenery while focusing religiously on your work.

A Helvetica house

I have this memory of watching a documentary about Helvetica (the font). And honestly, this house feels like someone in that movie designed it.

What I'd want to check on before buying

• What exactly is inside that wall of cabinets — and whether the rolling ladder stays
• Why the backyard doors aren't glass, and what it would cost to replace them
• Bedroom count for legal/resale purposes (the doorless one is doing a lot of work)
• HVAC and skylight condition on the top floor
• Whether anything about this home can be made to feel like a home