On the City Pattern Project: When We Are Born, Our Souls Are Encased in Ice
In which The Gay Recluse becomes increasingly obsessed with old bricks.
When we are born, our souls are encased in ice.
At some point, some of this ice might thaw, leaving us exposed in ways both good and bad.
It would be naive to think that anyone could emerge from this without some damage, although this too might be considered beautiful when viewed in a certain light.
Filed under: Architecture, City Pattern Project, Disease, Dissonance, Landscape, Ruins | Leave a Comment
Tags: Ice, Old bricks, Thaws, Winter