A Conversation
Nov 30 2012

I guzzle the images, transfixed. He calls them, spaces.

Our conversation begins.

Me: The light. Architect: The light. Me [Walking, prancing. The place echoes.] Architect [Standing, smiling. The place echoes.] Me [Fingertips brushing against the wall. My heart beats fast.] Architect [Still. Watching me, and then, the openings.] Me [Hardly forming a sentence]: Ah. Architect [No words but the sound of a smile, followed by its expression.] Me [Arms across the walls. The wall, warm.] Architect [Walking up, her hand on my right shoulder. The hand, warm.]

The lines the shadows the light. The moment surrounds me as I breathe. I am happy to be alive, to have been here, to have been born.

Dear architect, thank you.