There's a Japanese art called Kintsugi, the practice of mending a broken piece of pottery with gold. It embraces the idea of what has been weathered and broken can become more beautiful because of the life it's lived. Built in 1956. And nearly seventy years later, this mid-century modern isn't pretending to be something brand new. And that's part of its magic. Sunlight spills across the refinished oak floors, turning them warm and golden. Original mahogany built-ins remind you that homes were once designed with permanence in mind. The kitchen is separate, practical, and honest. There's a pantry, generous cabinet space, a new refrigerator and a new oven. You could enjoy it exactly as it is, or someday make it entirely your own. Not to erase the past, but to build upon it. Four bedrooms live comfortably on the main level, including a primary suite with a big walk-in closet and an accessible bath. The basement is a separate, an income-producing apartment that can add $1500+ a month to your bank account or have the flexibility for guests, extended family or whatever version of life comes next. Outside, the blue stone patio opens to an unusually wide double lot with room to dream bigger. Gardens. Something architectural. Something wild. The home has evolved and adapted over the decades. It carries its age openly, with no apologies. And maybe that's what makes this home feel so human. Because a meaningful home doesn't have to be flawless to be whole. Life changes us. Some things get restored. Some things remain untouched. Some things wait patiently for the right person to see what they could become. This home isn't asking you to make it perfect. It is asking you to notice what's already beautiful. To preserve what matters while adding your own layer of life. And maybe in the spirit of Kintsugi, to understand that the most interesting homes are not the ones without imperfections. They're the ones where every life lived within becomes a piece of the art.