The Architecture of Breaking Down

Even at this time, I am retrieving myself through the rubble. The retrieval operation may take long, even longer than it should be. In the end, I failed finding myself through the cluttered, chaotic place… for the rubble is me: the once picturesque building has now fallen down into fragments of concrete and steel.

Once upon a time, I was robust like no other, standing with considerable pride and confidence. I felt like no one can ever break me down, for I was made of concrete and steel, resiliently bearing all forces acting upon me.

The architect might have fallen short of education and experience he needed. Or the contractor could have committed an error in the construction. Or, maybe… the force was too strong -- out of this world -- and nobody ever thought of its possible occurrence. Whatever the cause might have been, it’s beyond the point now.

I have fallen down, like a soaring bird that suddenly came crashing down.

No longer can I feel the touch of the wind or hear the discreet sounds of airplanes’ flight.

No longer can I see the horizon or the sun or touch the sky and see the clouds slowly move.

No longer can I see the world from above.

Today, rubble as I may be, a chance to be rebuilt is all I need. A chance, a small fighting chance. To carry on with life even if there seems to be no other reason but that chance. To carry on even if it’s the only thing you’re holding on. Rosetti was able to rebuild Ferrara, Leonardo made Milan better after undertaking civic improvement projects and many architects made projects of remodeling and rebuilding. But neither Rosetti nor Leonardo can rebuild me now.

One day, I shall be able to rebuild myself from these fragments, without an architect, without a contractor, without you. Independent, dignified, pompous – I will be the tallest skyscraper in the world and you will look up to me. Then I shall see again, the beautiful world from above.