a home that listens

i have loved clay homes for as long as i can remember. i love how their walls recieve the day. its heat, its wind and her dust. its passing light. like somehow remembers where it comes from. it carries a patience of ground and hand. they are shaped slowly over conversations and tea. never rushed. they do not pretend to be permanent. yet endures. it cracks, it settles, it breathes. and in this it feels deeply human.

there is a gentleness to clay homes. they soften sound. they hold coolness through afternoons and share the collected warmth when night arrives. they change with the seasons, darkening after rain, paling in sun, always smiling with the sky.

i trust them. they ask for care and give comfort and happiness in return. they teach attentiveness. how to notice small fractures. how to repair rather than replace. how beauty lives in caring and touch.

poetry of architecture - my ongoing personal exploration

i always felt to live with clay is to accept time as a friend. walls are not fixed statements but ongoing gestures. they age just as we do. marked by weather. by hands and donkeys carrying harvests from the fields brushing past. by years of living leaning gently against them.

perhaps this is why my love for clay homes grows and grows. clay homes belong to the land. they stand quietly. listening. and in their quietness they offer something rare. a place where a body can rest. and a heart does not need to hurry.

i think i remember all the clay homes i step gently into. this little one was just so so lovely.
poetry of architecture. my personal ongoing exploration.

sarah jessica marie burns xx