Sometimes we fit ourselves into crowded systems the way pieces fit into Tetris—not because the space suits us, but because it is the only opening left.
Field Notes
Every roof seems to interrupt another. Lines lean into lines, walls disappear behind walls, and each building appears to have found its shape only by adapting to everything already pressed against it. The colors are joyful, but the space between them feels tense—beautiful and claustrophobic at once.
It makes me think about how easily a life can become organized by competing angles: expectations, obligations, identities, and other people’s ideas of where we should fit. We keep adjusting ourselves to the available space until adaptation begins to look like design. Yet somewhere among all those intersecting lines, a narrow passage remains—small, imperfect, but still leading somewhere.