We determined the need and then constructed great buildings of sleep. We allowed for some settling. We fortified against any of those challenges, the unexpired ones, that startle you cresting the horizon. We built and contemplated that our lives were not of our own making and thus, had become free.
The nutbrown of our surroundings became a template for all we might do. We incorperated the arch of the river willow into the idea that we might fail. The image of failure became the forms for our enclosure, the hideous idea that we might be consumed by our own imagination. We determined we had become insane.
We accepted that our frailties would be interwoven into anything we might accomplish. The patina of authenticity, we called it, and applied it to the surface with a pair of trowels. We decided that to in order consider the project a success, we need never wake up. Our structures would stand for thousands of years without us.
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