AVITT
We Met on the Steps New Architecture refuses age, like plastic refuses breaking down. It won’t accept the patina of time, instead it flashes, an instant, for Insta. Architecture, distracted by fame and the thrill of the cutting edge, forgot the simple sublimity of letting people know they, as humans, exist. But here, I know for certain you exist(ed). I can tell from dimples resting on each step, gentle reminders of feet long since on their way. I might even know who you are. But I have no way of knowing if I’ve followed in your footsteps or if you’ve followed in mine. Even as strangers, we’ve been more intimate than most. Our hands held each other through a banister, once bronze, now gold.
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