I saw a heap of bricks in my backyard, entangled in vastly grown ferns. They were not in condition of use, some were broken, worn out. They lost value and importance, they would never come in use and in some moment of time their existence would be erased. But the process of making of the coral red brick was not so comfortable. The soft soil passed through heated furnace for hours, shaped in absolute rectangle and became tough inside out. The calm flow of time would ruin it’s toughness and perfect appearance gradually. I would be the watcher to the nature’s most painful act yet beautiful on it’s own.