The Temporal Scale

From melancholy it came, and to melancholy it returns.

To remember where you come from is part of where you're going.

If you step into silence, you'll hear it.

Poetically man dwells.

You listen to those that dwell inside you, tuning yourself to their sounds as they ring out over and over again.

"Do you consider yourself a postmodernist?"
"As long as saying 'yes' will get people talking about architecture."

Study nature. Love nature. Draw close to nature.

Everything you've given me is light. Light, and nothing else.

I am the space I occupy.

How do people leave? Why do they leave? And where do they go?

Welcome, dear friends, to the new house. I've got hot tea waiting—raspberry.

She came from silence, and to silence she longs to return.

Shadowless, lightless, shadowless, lightless ...

To exist, only to exist.

A house is but a small city. A city is but a great house.

"What is it that you want to be, brick?"
"I want to be an arch."

In this stillest of silences, this alone remains.

The path I tread has never been clear.

But I remember such beautiful sights—I want to see the outside again!

Be joyful, friends. Our journey ends here.

Between silence and light, between beginning and end, shadows always linger.

Sleep now, my child. The sun has already risen—