As long as I can remember, I've loved buildings. My fondness for bricks and stones, especially, has only grown as the years have gone by- and I'm not entirely sure 'why', though I don't think it matters much. If I try to figure it out, I suppose I'm attracted to the orderliness of brick, paired with the texture and color of them, and the fact that despite their appearance of perfection, they have been laid by the hands of humans, afterall. The bricks themselves hold 'imperfections' as well...they can be crumbly, not of uniform color or shape. Stones on the other hand are nature-made and set within the confines of mortar..creating a clean effect out of the chaos of randomish shape and size. It feels so satisfying to look at. A rock wall, a stone house, they give the impression of elegance, timelessness but also raw authenticity.
The way buildings are the vessels for our human activity...the way they live and breathe with us, the way they change and get old, too, and evolve over time. Buildings destroy (well, humans who decide to make the buildings) but they harbor life. They hide us behind their walls. There is mystery within.