Let me give you a route to go.
A window to pass from.
An arch to look through.
A broken wall to climb on.
What if the window is half your size?
What if the arch is big enough to house your entire city?
What if the broken wall is a hike up a mountain?
With close up, space expands.
The bricks peeked out at me. They came, like a sudden scene in a film, a dynamite of the tenth of a second. There was red and brown, a skyline of broken lines standing in sheer contrast against the blue.
It was floating, almost unreal; a physical interconnection in the suspended reality of its half burnt walls in the midst of its far flung ruins and debris. The ethereal fragility of its soul just existing in the midst of consciousness; the past with its destinies and transformations all gathered into this instant of an aesthetically perceptible present.”
It gave evidence of the present I was a part of, the possible future it could hold, and a scattered image of the past that had defined it. Time had gnawed on those walls and dragged them down to their brink. The crumbling walls lurking beneath those thick layers of overgrown foliage. Nature had taken its toll on them. Man was irrelevant there in the midst of grass ten feet high, trees forty feet high, a river of fast flowing water, fishes of golden color, melodic chirping in the background.