The sun is up.. a muted ball of fire.. a misty morning.. hushed.. serene.. dont know how one can resist the magic of dawn.. nor how we miss out on it completely.. safely shrouded in our concrete facades.. asleep in life and bed.. crying about our lack.. incomprehensibly unaware of the riches around.. bemoaning being alone and uncared for.. impervious of the love and magic showered on us every moment.. uniquely divine heirs needing fictional legacies.. y'day someone showed me a video on architecture.. and that person spoke as if he was envisioning poetry.. averring form is fiction.. what a beautiful recognition of the relationship between architect and architecture.. shaping stories into structures.. challenging.. questioning the mechanical creations in an area full of life..
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