No room is better than another, and neither is any of the sixteen types. What matches is the behaviour: where they settle in a house, and at what distance from other people they sit. One room for each of the sixteen, as a metaphor and nothing more.
The study
WhyOne chair only. Not a room for letting someone in, but for carrying a thought all the way through.
In that roomA closed door is not a refusal here. Closed is simply the normal state.
The attic
WhyA clock, a map, and a calculation left half-finished. Not tidy, and it knows where everything is.
In that roomWhen someone comes up, it starts talking from the middle of the explanation.
The meeting room
WhyA schedule on the wall and a fixed number of chairs. People gather, something is decided, people leave.
In that roomWhat it hates most is an hour that ends with nothing decided.
The workshop
WhySeveral half-built things side by side. Few finished ones, and more ideas than anyone else has.
In that roomNever tidies up: the next idea arrives sooner than the tidying would.
The chair by the window
WhyPlaced beside you rather than opposite. Easy to talk to, partly because the eyes do not meet.
In that roomPeople who sit there start saying things they did not know they thought.
The music room at dusk
WhyA room that only makes sound when nobody is around. A place where no ear has to be considered.
In that roomA knock stops the sound. Wait a little and it starts again.
The hall with a small stage
WhyBuilt for people to gather in. Where the light falls was decided before anyone arrived.
In that roomWith an empty house, the room itself loses heart.
The wide-open window
WhyWind, sound and smell come in exactly as they are. Closing it does not occur to it.
In that roomSo much comes in that the room gets untidy now and then.
The office with the filing cabinets
WhyLabels aligned; last year's file comes out at once. The decided thing lives in the decided place.
In that roomIf someone changes the order, it notices the same day.
The entrance hall
WhyThe place that divides inside from outside. Keys, an umbrella, a name. Nobody enters except through here.
In that roomQuiet as a rule, and formidable only when someone crosses the line.
The kitchen, arranged for work
WhyEverything placed so the path is shortest. A layout in which the hands never stop.
In that roomWhen someone helps, it is the moving of things that bothers it.
The dining table
WhyAlways one chair more than needed. Someone might come: that is the premise.
In that roomDoes not sit down until everyone else has.
The garage with a workbench
WhyTools return to their places. It is repaired before it is discussed.
In that roomDoes not stop working when someone comes in — and will talk for hours while the hands move.
The sunny sofa
WhyThe cushions are in a different arrangement every day: whatever felt best that morning.
In that roomUnless it is hurried, the air in this room hardly ever breaks.
The roof
WhyUp before anyone else, looking down. A place for someone who cannot stay still.
In that roomSpots from here what is happening, and is the first one down the stairs.
The middle of the living room
WhyWhen people gather, that spot becomes a stage on its own. No equipment required.
In that roomThe only hard thing is how large this room is when nobody is in it.
Homes are built very differently from country to country. Here the rooms are only a metaphor for place and distance. Other metaphors: dog breeds, instruments, birds, football, vehicles.
The rooms are only the entrance. Pick your type and theirs, and you find which of the sixteen relations the two of you are in.
Pick the two types