Here it is. This is what I’ve been looking for. I get a little closer, stepping carefully to avoid the common dangers of scrap wood with upended nails, loose paving and stones draped with strands of barbed wire. This is perfect. I can see fragments of the landscape through the gaps and holes of the walls make out remnants of activity in the dust of floorboards. The outside merges with this inside, giving each place the pull of possible interface. The layering of time and wear. Discrete shifts in perception like: The end of (a need for) architecture, the unfinished narratives that beckon and call for attention: Hello! Hello shack! Hello shear! Hello wither, rust, warp, rot, decay; hello falling off, prying loose, leaning to, hello sudden rattle and howl of tin roofs, squeak and twang of pushed frames, hello words, hello phrases and letters! This is a room. This is a shelter. This is it.