I'm not an architect; when I look at people, I don't see buildings.
I see silence, tempered on the anvils of being,
its weight pressing into the hollows we call our own.
I see the singular line, the sharp curve where each life turns.
I see loneliness—carved so uniquely into each person, like a dialect,
a wound too vast for most to name.
And I see love—the desperate way we hope to find ourselves in another, without hesitation.