Pictures (Week 9 Architecture assignment)

Short buildings, middle buildings, tall buildings, tall buildings getting taller,

Blocks upon blocks upon blocks.

Brick and mortar, stone on stone, timber rarely, glass and steel mostly.

Green and brown blend in with a sea of whitish grey against an upward sea of blue and white and a downward sea of black and whitish grey.

Grids square grids diagonal grids up down left right all around.

Planes up in the sky slice planes in the sky

Lines on planes on grids

Dots that become lines that become planes that become grids

Perfection, it is unattainable. An abstract reality does not exist. Only the mind thinks it is beautiful.

Time weathers, washes away emotions, renders utopia otherwise, marching on, entropy

Knocking on the door, shouting that it is

Time,

Time to wake up from a dream.

Time nurtures the wrinkles in the old man and old lady, the little patterns scratched on the skin growing,

Deeper and deeper, Time feeding them nourishment of some kind,

Growing is what these do, in all directions and

Feeding upon themselves and

Growing from the inside out and outside in.

They stay strong despite the assault.

The spirit can never be crushed!

Sometimes only a skeleton is left, but the memory remains, what was once gaudy and

Young and idealistic,

But meaning, that most idiosyncratic and arbitrary of things,

 is as nurtured by Time as are wrinkles.

One only learns to savour the bitter with Time

But how sweet is the bitterness!

Dots grow into lines grow into adult lines grow into old big caverns that

Eat themselves from the inside out and turn into

Nothing.

But dots become crooked lines become crooked planes that intersect on

Crooked grids intersected by

Crooked streets walked on by

People who are bittersweet and equally chipped off on the

Inside, as things are from the outside.