...of a building. A house out of the XIX century or so when walls were real walls, endoskelletons were real endoskelletons, wooden rods were real wooden rods, clay was real clay, earth was real earth, mud was real mud, manure was real manure...
And a mix of these would stand for a hundred years and keep the inhabitants who lived between walls of such mixes warm and isolated...perhaps. Truth be told, I've never inhabited such a house but I saw their walls still standing more than once.
The image I took of that detail of a house now looks to me as a kind of mapping or a way to write down information similar to the one used centuries ago by the Inka. They used knots to write down thoughts, so why not an entanglement of sticks? You can do math that way, at least. I've seen a multiplication system that looks similar, too.
While the wood incorporated in that wall has no doubt memories of generations past, I realize I am trying to make out of it something it was not. I am just a man of imagination, I guess. Trying to transform what you observe into a new meaning is a way of art. I also realize I am simply exercising in such a way, not actually achieving anything here.
But seeing things for what they are not is still a skill, a way of thought, a habit I would encourage. Even in myself.
Peace And The Opposite Of Oblivion!
Yours,
Manol