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Designer's Thoughts Become Art

How to start?              Where to begin?         How to comprehend? What should I do?         Am I doing this right?         Why do the pieces do not fit?             How come I cannot get this process right?       I need inspiration damn it?          What to believe?               What does it stand for?           What is the content?          Is the content any good or just crap?          What can I take from this?        Is philosophy transposed from content?      Does life explore through our belief of certain philosophical typologies?     Is the transformation of our philosophical views a rebirth of us?    What is life?      What is death?      What becomes of us when dwelling to such thoughts?           As designer’s, do we create art?      


           The search for clarity, for the visual, for the object is consuming, difficult, and if dangerous, obsessive. The search for such clarity in design is filled to the brim of not answers, but of questions, of thoughts, and of abstract thinking. The conceptual versus the practical, the abstraction versus the real, and the idea versus the visual are philosophical typologies designers’ process and organize into not just beautiful elements, but most importantly, beautiful meanings that express what needs to be expressed. It’s as if designers’ are artists, but that in itself produce more questions of its profession and ideal mission statement which brings to this question: What are designers?






To research and analyze rich content into a design is to the core of a vigorous process one needs to explore, to dwell, and to concentrate. How to gain the glorified moments, the rich detail, and high quality process from a design is what designers try to accomplish daily. To an extent, those daily tasks become one with themselves. Furthermore, if one concentrates to the extreme, one finds themselves in a complete moment where the idea is clearly and effortlessly presented, but also comes with a surprise of one’s emotion. Yes, as designer’s we research and analyze like mathematical engineers when a problem is arise, but the missing counterpart to what makes designers as a whole is what makes us human: the emotion, the love, the compassion, the sweet oh so sweet heavenly passion. We research to gain, but we feel to express. As designers and as human beings, we all have to need to express. THE EXPRESSION is expressed.

“I say what I say but do they exist.

I say what I say but is there a voice.

I say what I say but nothing is reflected back.

Does it exist? Do I exist?

“What the fuck! Can anyone hear me?”

I want to be heard.”

(MIRRORED ME- David Sakumoto)

To keep thinking, to concentrate more, to sharpen our mind, to broaden our senses are deserving treatments that describe the contents of us which explore our language. It is the key to explore the depths and catacombs of artistic expression especially in the design world. Through expression, exploration arises. Furthermore, obsession can naturally grow because of intrigue and interest. As designers’, we obsess about the world of exploration in spaces, in elements, in details, and most importantly, in meaning. However, trying to find meaningful content is not as easy as it looks. Through exploring, we find more questions that are in need of answers, but how do we answer those questions? How does one attempt to explore those questions? From finding key expression to exploring high quality content, a designer’s thoughts are getting clearer by the second. THE EXPLORATION is explored.

“I saw not just Berlin, but also the whimsical elements of its past being brought into the present and even its future. I saw Berlin as a dream being drifted within me like it was a part of me of some sort. It was powerful even if my view of Berlin was literally miles away. Berlin became my memories but I was never so clear of what those memories meant.” (Eyes of Berlin- David Sakumoto)


        To bring rich content, rich ideas, and even rich questions into something visual is the most important and difficult process of designing. Throughout halfway of this journey to designing core content, production can be misunderstood when compared to designing. Production and design work collaboratively when the process is not rushed. Throughout my experience, my grand flaw in designing is misplacing designing with 100% production. Complete repetition, overproducing objects, and overgrowing poor content like a computer virus were all design flaws that place the journey to a complete halt. In some cases, the design spins around and around like a repetitive cycle that gets nobody anywhere. It is like a virus that plagues one’s mind that infects every thinking process in the design world.

You cannot THINK.

You cannot PROCESS.

You cannot CREATE.

You cannot DESIGN.


         Every time you concentrate harder and harder by the minute, the process is still at a heart-throbbing halt. However, designing and production can still work collaboratively. To stop the cycle, you stop designing. End it. Stop it. If possible, kill it. From there, clarity can seep through and the doors to rich content, ideas, and process can finally be opened. THE PRODUCTION is produced.

“Past to present

Life is explored

Life spreads

In choices

In decisions

In direction

A virus spreads

Time is used

A virus for life”

(A Virus for Life- David Sakumoto)

            The journey ends from the expression to the exploration to the production. With these values, the design process for rich content is fulfilled, but with no gained value or precious glory, a design is simply wasted. What did you gain? What did you fulfill? What did you learn? Without the learned value, a design was completed and unfortunately eliminated discreetly. You know the saying, “Give a man a fish, you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish; you feed him for a life time.” Yes, a cliché it may be, but it is a taste of wisdom to its core. To design with such passion with every element of rich content and ideas is what designers stand for. We as designers learn all the time from what we create as artists.


      It is what we do!

                                    It is what we stand for!

                                                                        It is who we are!

The quest to who is a designer has been answered and yes there are much more questions that need to be answered. However, that is what designers display.

Design- the quest to answer questions that needs to be answered with more questions.

THE LEARNED is acquired.

“Before attending architecture school, I would have never known such key knowledge to how to think architecture. To think architecture is to know how geometries are set and placed. To think architecture is to define revelation in time and space within the contours of form. To think architecture is to build and create. From that moment, I knew what I was fascinated and excited by: architecture.” (Who Am I- David Sakumoto).


The Search for My Language
“A community of decision, of initiative, of absolute initiality but also a threatened community in which the question has not yet been found the language it has decided to seek, is not yet sure of its own possibility within the community. A community of the question about the possibility of question.” stated Alphonso Lingis.

        How does one comprehend the very words about a community searching for the question, but yet is a question. In my words, I find it ironic, but yet intriguing because in my case, I am in the bounds of Lingis’s words right now and for many others as well. After experiencing first semester in Pratt Institute studying the theoretics and concepts of architecture, I completely understand what Alphonso Lingis is trying to say. Throughout time and space, we humans search for the ultimate question that ultimately defines who we are as not just individuals, but also as a community. Colleges in the United States perfectly set as a great example of a community searching for the ultimate question. What is my purpose? What life I am destined to be? What is my future? Where do I belong? These are the many questions we seek as individuals like me and in order to nurture those questions we seek, we attend college.

            During my first semester at Pratt Institute, I never even thought about the possibility of the question or ultimately the search for the question what so ever. However, attending an art institute was probably one of the many clues or gestures that I should have known for exploring the question. After a week or so, I was driven to dwell into conceptualizing with architecture and how different forms and geometries arise from such a beautiful art form. Every moment we explore certain geometries that intrigues me as an architecture student is another step closer to the ultimate question I am yet to find out.

            Coming into half way of the semester, I started to develop the limitless concepts of architecture and how our minds perceives and creates in less than a second. For me, this was inspiring, intriguing, shocking, and lastly, precious. Before attending architecture school, I would have never known such key knowledge to how to think architecture. To think architecture is to know how geometries are set and placed. To think architecture is to define revelation in time and space within the contours of form. To think architecture is to build and create. From that moment, I knew what I was fascinated and excited by: architecture

            Near the end of first semester, I started to gain small gestures to what my life should be like. Is architecture really my true profession? Am I destined to become an architect? Not to be hasty, I say possibly. All that I know for now is that my mind is fascinated by the form and thinking process of architecture. With this information, I cannot derive a decision of my destiny. In a way, I thought it would be incredibly foolish and naïve to process such a decision for myself. However, even though there is not answer yet to the ultimate question, my purpose, I did find out the answer to another question.

            What is my language? What do I speak of? What do I talk of? What do I hear of? Even though I do not know what I am destined to do, I do know my language is. The language of architecture is the answer to the question within a community of many people who are still searching for their own language. Maybe the ultimate question is not what my destiny is or what my true calling is. Maybe it is what I find fascinating and how I pursue it. The ultimate question: What is my language? Architecture: simple as that.


Teaching Architecture to the Youth

          Teaching architecture was never a task that I would ever pursue in my lifetime. However, teaching architecture to a 12 year old kid takes teaching architecture to a whole new level. To comprehend the conceptual thinking of architecture is like trying to study Buddhism in enlightenment. It takes someone with great vision, thinking, philosophy, and artistry in order to become a great architect. Therefore, teaching a 12 year old boy architecture is way harder than what it seems. To start, I created a project that requires a vigorous process filled with creativity, freedom, expression, and craftsmanship. Only studying for one year so far, I cannot express how much knowledge I gained from architecture. The process, the concepts, the creativity, the logistics, the systems, the meanings, the relationships, and spaces are all broad meanings we come by as architects. As for me, I applied those very broad terms to a project I developed for him. The project consisted of building a structural model that required sustainability, at least two different forms of geometries used, and connection of spaces within those geometries. With this task at hand, I first made him draw out his ideas in plan and in elevation to see what can consist of structural elemental geometries. What he developed was a drastically stretched pyramid with two cube geometries. With his drawing of two very different geometries, I then made him create a prototype model that demonstrates his drawing and process using paper and tape. With his prototype, I asked simple questions of what form/s were created from his model: What do you see? Why you applied the cube on top of another cube? Why did you choose a pyramid rather than a cone? Do you think you could improve your model? Afterward, I made him explore the spaces of his model by making him create another model using basswood sticks and wood glue that show the wireframe of his previous model. Through this task, he can better understand the spaces created with his process in order to see what it will be like to be in his designed spaces. Lastly, I asked him the ultimate question that defines his project: Do you love your project and why? He replied, “of course I do because I designed it myself.” After understanding the vigorous process of architecture and design, you always ALWAYS have to ask yourself whether you love you project or not. If you design anything that you do not love, then your design has no love and care.



Mirrored Me

What I stride for

What I die for

What I live for

It is through me I try to do everything.

It is through me I try to be the best of the best.

It is through me I want to conquer many but in secret

Reflection is sarcastic

Reflection is funny

“Ha! Really? Oh really?” I say with every reflection of me

I say what I say but do they exist.

I say what I say but is there a voice.

I say what I say but nothing is reflected back.

Does it exist? Do I exist?

“What the fuck! Can anyone hear me?”

I want to be heard.

I want attention.

I want friends.

My reflection does not respond.

I want a new life.

I want to fit in.

No. scratch that.

I want people to fit in for me.

Yes that is it. That is it.

Reflection still does not respond.

I feel tired.

I feel exhausted.

Do I really give a damn?

That’s not what I meant.

Do I fucking give a shit what my reflection tells me?

Yes. That’s what I meant.

Reflection is nothing.

Is it really nothing?

No. It can’t be nothing. It has to be something.

I am lost.

My reflection is catching on.

It is in control.

I cannot bare it.

I cannot tear it apart.

My identity has been weakened.

I wanted to fade away.

I did fade, but not in that way.

My opacity of identity is lightened.

I seem transparent

Now I am missing.

I have been given an opportunity.

I was scared and lost still.

I was nervous.

Do I take or bare the reflections?

I take it.

I never looked back.

I don’t become the object.

I don’t become the object mirrored

I don’t become the reflected.

I start to create.

I start to design.

Not “design” design


Design my fucking life.

I feel me.

I feel what I wanted.

I feel what I desired.

The transparency is now the weak.

My identity feels more concrete.

My reflections do not feel like reflections.

I start to question?

What were reflections? 

What did it do to me?

Why did it hurt?

Why was I was so confused?

Why was I so fucked?

Maybe it was just all in my head.

No. Scratch that.

Was it my image?

Yes, it might be


Not quite.

“Light bulb”

It was what I thought people thought about me


Created the image I fucking hate.



That was definitely it.

My reflections were never imaginary.

They were real.

It only took me years to finally realize:

Should I fucking care who my reflections affect?


The answer is no.


There is no “scatch that”



I know who I am.

I don’t need to prove it to anyone.

My reflections don’t need to converse


My identity


Hall of Mirrors

In your mind but truly to fool.

At first lost, but

Find a way out and yourself.


Eyes of Berlin

            Berlin: A vision that has an insufferable past but yet attains its core truth. Well, that’s what most historians yap about. Yes, it is true and believe it or not Berlin’s past is horrific and all, but yet for me, the experience was quite different.

            While watching a film called Wings of Desire which focuses on more or less the setting of its storyline, Berlin, I was drifted back into my past with grand Berlin and the many memories experienced while I was there. They are stories neither of tragedy nor joy. For me, they were contemplations of the direction of my life. What I desired? Where my mind will take me? Will I fail or will I achieve greatness? To me, these questions had no answers and that’s what worried me the most out of all my small worries.

            After 30 minutes into the film, I started to drift into my own mind. It was neither sleep nor hypnosis. It was a memory: a memory that changed my life forever, a memory only told in fragments rather than sentences, a memory filled with forward memories like falling dominos, a memory that is set in the “Eyes of Berlin”.

The rocky pavements

The trees in icicles

The bright stone pillars cracked

In my words: beautiful.

A city with pain

A city with shame

A city trying to evolve

A city trying to cover

In its eyes, truth can’t be hidden

Eyes of Berlin

I can see you

“Wings of Desire”

I remember

Remember what?

Not of the movie

My memory

My one memory

One that needs to be told


Not of poetry

Not of fragments now

In my own words

In my eyes

In my ears

From my heart

From my soul

From my passion

“Eyes of Berlin”

Not of its past

Not of its future

Of my past

Of my future

            I sit in my hotel room. I feel excited and even nervous because being in the grand city of Berlin was itself awestruck. On the 11th floor in the north corridor was my room. I hear my roommate in the bathroom probably washing his face with soap under the sink adjacent to the showers that made sounds of rain crying in silence. I see my sketch pad on the coffee table and all I wanted to do at that very moment was draw. I saw the view from my balcony viewing West Berlin but from far away. Close to me, I saw an Ikea store, some storage cases, and dumpsters but yet I wanted to draw what I saw from outside. I grabbed my sketch pad by its bind and held the tip of my pencil and drew what I saw. I saw not just Berlin, but also the whimsical elements of its past being brought into the present and even its future. I saw Berlin as a dream being drifted within me like it was a part of me of some sort. It was powerful even if my view of Berlin was literally miles away. Berlin became my memories but I was never so clear of what those memories meant.

            Same day at 9:00 pm I went down to the lounge with a couple of my friends at the bar drinking Berlin’s finest dark beer having fun: fun that I never experienced for the longest time. At that very moment, I knew why Berlin was so important to me. To see Berlin rise from its painful past keeping its scars not hidden under the covers, but visible for everyone to see is what paralleled my experiences and memories. I always kept my pain, my anger, and my personal thoughts alone to myself hidden from everyone. I could not keep it in any longer and wanted out: Not to escape but to release. I see Berlin now. I truly do. In a way, I found what I was looking for: the Eyes of Berlin. Oh how Berlin to me was a dream but yet screams out the truth of its past but at the same time in discreet. Berlin had mix feelings of how it is represented or stands. Eyes of Berlin

Eyes of Berlin

                        Eyes of Berlin

                                                A dream a dream

                                                A past that can never be forgotten

But yet

Shows truth in its eyes

In my eyes


On a blank page

Drawn from line to line

Being drifted

Like a dream

Like my dreams

Like me

Eyes of Berlin

Like a drawing on canvas

Waiting to be told

Waiting to be shown

To be loved

To be forgotten

Eyes of Berlin

Not tragic

Not joy

But drifted deeply


Into me

Eyes of Berlin

“Wings of Desire”

            One hour later, the drift has past and the film kept going. Paying attention to the film was not important. Even setting my eyes into the screen was of no importance. My eyes follow elsewhere……My Eyes of Berlin……


Eyes of Berlin (Reflection)

“Thinking back, I actually learned a lot.”


            Yeah, that’s how every response paper would always start with because most don’t even know what they felt or think about what they actually write about for an English course. However, in this case, writing “Eyes of Berlin” was not about learning what happened in the past or feeling about the film: “Wings of Desire”. In this case, if you read “Eyes of Berlin”, you did not read all of what happened about my days in grand Berlin.

            Through five hours of crying in pain, crying for joy, and of course staring at a blank Microsoft word document on my macbook pro laptop, “Eyes of Berlin” became the final product. I wish I can tell you detail after detail of what I cried about, but that would take a book to explain and embarrassing as I must say, I don’t even know why I cried that long. You can say I was selfish to shed more tears than necessary, but I have to admit: I’m a writing cryer.

            Writing this piece was really overwhelming as you already know, but I missed out many answers to many questions like: Why was I so attached to Berlin? What feelings did I keep hidden? What pain I went through that I had the need to cover? What exactly changed me to be more open than shy? This is what I tried to tell in “Eyes of Berlin”, but somehow, I could never find a spot for it like trying to find a position in Congress. I don’t know why it was so hard or even darn frustrating to find the spot for my personal emotions, but maybe it’s because I was quite delusional and was drowned in my salty tears when writing this piece. Well, hear it goes:

            Do you know what it feels to be ignored, to be shut down, to be unknown to the world that not even your family truly knows about you? Those were my days in the past and I felt like shit: just complete shit. Most people can say that they understand and yes some understand to an extent. They keep telling you, “things will get better”, but they don’t tell when or how. They just keep telling you, “things will get better”. What things? What fucking things will get better? All I had were questions and all I wanted were answers. I kept experiencing pain after pain after pain and nothing would stop it. At this point, I wouldn’t mind being bullied because at least I was noticed or known to people other than myself. I never desired the spotlight, but I never desired invisibility either. I felt as if I were an object with no shadow.

            After years and years of hiding the pain and faking smiles, I still was not ready. Maybe I will never be ready? Hopefully, those people who said, “things will get better” are right. At the end of my senior year of high school, I took a trip to Berlin on Spring break with high school students I knew my whole life but never talked or had conversations with.

            Here is when the “Eyes of Berlin” come into play. After the hotel room, my drawing, and the beer conversations, I realized what I just experienced when I went through my days and nights in Berlin. The conversations I had with the people I knew my whole life, how Berlin made me realize who I am, and how every moment I saw West Berlin from my 11th floor balcony from far far away, I knew what “things” will get better. I knew how “things” will get better: Breaking free of the pain within me by not hiding it. No more hiding. No more fake smiles. No more shyness. Berlin was another world and a world that I felt so connected to. “You can’t choose where you come from, but you can choose where you go from there.” Now I know I am no sad story. I can see.


I am not invisible.

I am alive.

I see the lights of Berlin’s skyline and at that moment, I knew:

I am infinite.







Valdrada (Reflection of a Sequence)

            From an idea to a concept to a design, architecture speaks in all sorts of sequences that range to infinity. Mixed in the catacombs of the design world, architecture speaks not just space and time, but also logic and reason. However, aside from the necessary rules to build architecture, there needs to be personality. From how I see it, the difference between architecture and engineering is defined by one huge element: art. Throughout my conceptual process of designing architecture, I synthesized the works of Invisible Cities “Valdrada” by Italo Calvino. The major element presented in Invisible Cities “Valdrada” is reflection. In literal terms, reflection in architecture can be translated through axes of rotation of walls, floors, poles, posts, etc. like a Hall of Mirrors for example. However, the concept of reflection can also be translated into another meaning. In my case, I defined reflection as the thoughts and ideas about oneself. What am I like? What do people think about me? Am I a nice or mean person? What do I think about myself? In all: Who am I?

            How we see ourselves and act upon those thoughts is what creates the way we are. It is not the abilities that define who we are. It is how we act on those abilities that chose to define us. This is what I wanted to implement into the architecture I wanted to design so dearly, but translating it to architecture is not an easy task. Furthermore, having a professor who controls every idea of your project is frankly displeasing. However, it is challenge that I decided to endure and take on. With my design process, I create four sequences of spaces that define reflection at every corner you turn in structural space. This is when you find the moments in architecture that truly speaks reflection in architecture and yourself.


            The corridors

            All in corner condition

            Only one defined

            One defined

            In planes

            In posts

            In intersection

            I move

            Closer Closer Closer

            From corner I see

            See what?

            A trajectory to keep moving

            But down

            Down descending

            I keep moving moving moving



            I come to a stop

            In temporary space

            A second corner arises

            Seems the same

            But changed

            But different

            A corner with planes

            With posts

            The same

            But different

            It speaks in another language

             A language only I made

            I start to see but I keep moving

            Moving descending

            Descend down


            Descend with clarity


            Let me down

            The corridors converge

            Multiple intersections


            In fright

            I see too much

            Too much to handle

            Myself splattered

            Corners splattered

            Myself projected everywhere

            I see too much


            I keep moving


            Descend down

            Let me down

            I drown under

            I keep moving


            I come to a stop

            In permanent space

            I see myself

            Not scattered

            Not butchered

            In enlightenment I see

            I see the same

            Myself in same

            My reflection in same

            The original corner

            Defined with planes

            Defined with posts

            Defined with intersections


            I come back from above

            But yet I am under

            The same

            But descended

            I see the passage

            I see now

            In complete clarity

            I remain the same

            From above

            And under

            With transformation

From beginning to end, we start from birth and die in the end. We transform ourselves with endless means of identity, personality, and wisdom, but in the end, I am always the same me whether above or under. 


Valdrada (Death to Life)

To feel so low and when up so high

Lit with the sky so out and deviant

In awe

But yet disparity arises

So cold

The water drips

A droplet


A waterfall

How the walls tear with cries

How the floor breaks the salty ocean

Tears of volume from the heavens



But then

Fire rises

The smoke

The ashes

Our hearts go and wither away

They become the salty oceans

From above and above

Souls leave

Tears are shed

No amount of fire

can challenge the tears

stored in one’s heart


Those tears dry

Eventually all tears end

In moments of time

An opening is near

So tall like the heavens

So narrow like our minds

So shallow

So naïve

An opening is lit

Tears freeze

Freeze from time

Freeze from shock

Freeze from light

The fire is no longer young and beautiful

Life becomes evident

The fire smothered

Life arises

Death is past

Birth is raised

No longer fragmented

No longer isolated

Life together

A whole

The heart beats

With complete beats

Life is whole

Birth is treasured

And as life shines




Life sheds

When the sun falls down


The sun will rise again

Again it will

And the cycle

The uneasy cycle we all bare

Rises again


Valdrada (Memorial to Living Space)


The waterfall high above the concrete wall creates the walls of the memorial space. The ceiling is so high in the sky and the sunlight reflects among the falling water and the pond surrounding the floors. A narrow and tall opening in the concrete wall leads into another realm with passages and destination spaces.

Candle Light Vigil:

I see a staircase all constructed with overlapping corners. I make my up the staircase and upon I see candles underneath the concrete wall as if it were designed to be a chimney. The smoke and ashes rise above the concrete wall staining it with soot.

Living Space:

I exit the Candle Light Vigil Ceremonial Space from the same staircase and slowly walked through the courtyard cornered with staircases and upon I see a tower made of corners with floors and high ceilings. There, I see the living space that can be occupied with anything one could imagine.

Shower Space 1:

I see another staircase with the same overlapping corners. I make my way up the staircase and upon I enter a shower placed in the back corner. The ceiling was up so high where water rains down from above and below me another space appeared right in the middle of every corner within the tower.

Ritual Love Making Bedroom:

I enter the space below the shower that is encapsulated within the center where all the corners join together. The joined corners can be clearly seen from looking straight up into the sky. Right below the joined corners is a bedroom that fills the center space where lovers can together make love.

Balcony Space:

I see another opening that leads into a balcony below the bedroom. Once I entered the balcony, I turn left and see an opening placed in the back corner. The view is the open backyard where light submerges the space.

Backyard (Greenery Wall):

I exit the balcony by crossing a bridge connecting me to the life of nature filled with vines and plants in concrete. Upon, I see a warped staircase surrounding the greenery wall. I walk up, through, and down the wall and soon land on the ground where I see the sun set on the beautiful horizon sky.


Valdrada (Final Poetry Stances)

Intro Monologue

Death to mourn

Life to celebrate

Opposing and different


Without one or the other

Humanity and morality

Becomes no more

Valdrada’s Elemental Points

Valdrada is defined by twin cities

City of Death

City of Life

Both reflect each other


Destined to connect





Valdrada’s divine prosperity begins with

One simplex:

A simple corner

Defined by two lines


Its mirrored counterparts

A simplex to a complex,

Valdrada prospers

In a gridded space

A nine square grid

Where corners accommodate the space

Beginning with death

Ending with life

At last,

A utopia forms


At sunrise,

The water falls

The fire rises




A debt must be paid

Death must be mourned

High ceilings

Narrow openings

A ritual has begun

Implied corners

One can see


Incomplete as it may be

Neither detailed

Nor bore

Cornered spaces are formed

Candles are lit in

Mourning for the dead

Conceiving smoke that stains concrete wall

The water falls

The fire rises

At sunrise,

A memorial is formed

Living space

At sunset,

The living shines

Growth prospers

Love becomes divine

Cornered spaces

Full and rich

No implied corners

The three spaces complete

A shower

A bedroom

A balcony

All intersected

All joined harmoniously

The shower: cleansing and purifying

The bedroom: lovers make love

The balcony: glaring sunset


Full and rich

Nature shines from all

Vines drape

Plants grow

A garden prospers

On concrete wall

Corners join

Corners intersect

Corners reflect

Full and rich

At sunset,

Life is formed