Reflection

The plaza widens out like a river into a pond, surrounded by interconnecting channels and streams that point in every direction other than the one you look for when trekking. There is no North or South, there is no East, nor even a West. There isn’t, to a lesser extent, even a point of particular origin, it simply flows in a direction no one can fathom, pointing to an edifice to one knows even exists.

I cannot say whether the logical fallibility of such a notion is conscionable, but at the same I nevertheless feel the inevitability of the questionability of such things.

On the one hand, it invites any and all to come and peer at the crown jewels of the school, like the glossening wooden sacrificial lamb hung on the walls of every alter call on Sunday mornings. However, the openness of this free-world environment feels less inviting to the common thought of infinite singularity, and more like the crater’s of a E.L.E. asteroid, that crashed on Earth millions of years ago.

The ominous, foreboding reality of the crushing gravity of time, compounded by the unrealistic expectations of society’s undoubtedly w***e-mongerings, makes this place all the better, left to it's own devices, like the rusting carcass of a ship beached on a sandy shore: it wasn’t waiting to be rebuilt or renewed—it was waiting with patience, slow, and agonizingly unmistakably in truth binding to die.