dimensions. In Bethesda, where architectural sensibility runs through decades of deliberate restraint — stone facades, considered proportions, interiors that speak through material rather than gesture — the darker veining of Black Limba finds a particular kind of welcome, not as contrast but as conversation, the grey-to-nearly-black streaks reading less as drama and more as earned complexity against the pale limestone and muted palettes that define the corridor's most thoughtful residential work. Here the golden brown heartwood darkens over years in place, aging alongside the homes themselves in a way that rewards the client who chose figuring over uniformity, and the specifier who understood that restraint does not mean absence of character. It is precisely this calibration — knowing how much movement a room can hold — that carries the conversation forward when that same sensibility meets the altogether different appetite waiting in Beverly Hills, where