A Strange Sensation, A Stranger Discovery

I lay in bed, arms and legs spread out, staring up at the ceiling. Slowly, I sit up, looking around the room, and finally take in my surroundings. A chair and a desk, which has three drawers. Simple, cheap wood, with several candle sticks. The door, made with the very same wood, with only one lock, my window to the right of the bed, and the bed itself. Pictures everywhere, but they are all provided by me. Really, this rooms is bland, tasteless to the eye. The only color comes from my hair and the variety of pictures. Honestly this mundane atmosphere wouldn't help me in my thinking at all.

I left the inn, inhaling to clear my head. It was late afternoon, or early evening, and the business in the trade district was heavy, and so amid the people and noise I wouldn't be able to think without some sort of distraction. I walked into the Residential District, past the now familiar houses, past the crayon man, who smiled and waved. I waved back, and carried on. I was looking for love now, and childhood had been found here.

Another canal over water lead to a new district of the city. The air was smoky, hot, and strangely charming. While the air wasn't the greatest thing to breathe, it offered a sense of liveliness, as if there was something to always do here, and do more than just buy and sell things. More than living space. I felt as if I was inside a living city. A strange sensation, and a strange thing to think. I couldn't explain what it was about this place that left me feeling good.

I walked in to see some construction equipment: a crane operated by levers and pulleys, some crates and work men. They didn't pay me any attention and talked among themselves. Further ahead was a forge, and many people shared plans, examined each others crafts, and talked about metals, and wars, and praised some for their experience and skill. I walked further on.

After turning a corner, the air seemed to become cleaner, and the sensation left. As I walked, I could see more houses with unknown purposes, although some housed professional miners and blacksmiths and engineers. Further on was an arch leading out to the outer street, a pathway that circled the entire district. I turned to the left, and noticed a building that had no doors, simply a frame.

Several people inside talked of adventures, treasures, achievements, and songs. They made no sense, but it was amusing to hear them speak of their random and curious tales. I stopped to listen for a while, but they continued speaking. Honestly, I didn't care to be noticed, and unnoticed I went. The rear end of the building had no door like unto the front. I went through, trying to understand what kind of purpose that building served. It looked like a store on the inside, but it wasn't.

I arrived at the other end. To my left was the back of many houses, leading to a dead end. To my right was a house. It stood out. It wasn't like any other house. It was there, alone, unused, and unique. No other houses stood out towards this hidden street, only the neighboring backs. It was made of something no other house was: bricks. A brick house, alone and alienated by its architectural peers. I hadn't seen any other house made of brick.

I went to the door, and knocked once, only for the door to open. It hadn't been shut, nor was it locked. Inside was a rug, a few chairs, a table, and a bookshelf, with a simple wooden chandelier. I went upstairs, and saw a bedroom. The bed was large, large enough for four of me to sleep comfortably.

I went outside. It was a nice house. Nobody lived there. Why the door was open is a mystery to me, but there was no sign of any life entering the house. A good amount of dust covered the inside. The bricks made me smile; people must not appreciate the kind of material this house is made of. A pile of bricks laid fifteen feet away from the side of the house. No doubt these were left over from construction. I picked on up and put it in my bag.

The brick would represent something, an emotion, or a feeling. It was sturdy, unique, and patiently waiting for someone to live inside. My search for love today lead me to find something important, and not through a memory. The present time importance of this brick would remind me to be patient, waiting for something, someone to live within my heart. It reminded me of how unique I was. It would be there to remind me to be strong enough to endure the weather, even the weather of life.

This brick is important. Strange thing to think. But if it taught me something, it's important enough to listen to, just like Soul. Maybe this brick is Soul. I went home, and set my brick on my table. I put three candles through the holes, and began to draw with my stubby crayons. . .