The upright, round column, of interlaced horizontal slate, hand crafted with genuine irregularity, gathered together in a truer than the eye can see line, form and fragmented colour arrangement
A black, blacker than the bog that first laid it down, or blacker than the miner who dragged it to the worlds surface, from those thousands of fragile feathered seams
A grey, a faster grey than the silver-shadow motorbike that led us off the ferry, a time for the leather clad rider to engage himself before speeding off towards the mountains
A fitness for purpose, more fitting than any machine made tripod, or foundry-cast firmware, or futuristic furniture; the irregular becomes regular, the fragile becomes firm, and the truth is we passed in too short a moment, we thus have one more reason, or need, to return
