“Once a brick,
always a brick”...
that’s what all the
other bricks
always said.
And he did feel
he was most
certainly a brick.
He was red, solid,
rough, and yes, a
rectangular blob
of dried clay.
No denying it...
he was a brick.
pg_0002
Sitting among all the other bricks, however,
he had the feeling of waiting-- for what he
couldn’t say-- but he had a feeling.
The other bricks came and went, but he was
always…
left behind…
waiting.
pg_0003
Some bricks built walls.
Some were put into sand and
people walked on them.
Some built t all buildings.
Some were put into designs and had
window panes between them.
Some held up windows or even
stopped doors from closing.
It seemed bricks were used for
many things…but not him…
he was waiting. What would
happen if he waited forever…
and for what?
pg_0004
Some held up windows or even
stopped doors from closing.
It seemed bricks were used for
many things…but not him…
he was waiting. What would
happen if he waited forever…
and for what?
Then a day came with sun and shadows falling
on the brick. The last shadow stopped.
The man was tall and thin, with smooth hands. When the man
picked the brick from the pile, the brick somehow knew this
was going to be what he had been waiting for…but what?
pg_0005
The tall thin man
took the brick,
placed it on the
table, and for
days the man sat,
the brick sat,
and they waited.
pg_0006
With a tool in one hand, the tall thin
man picked up the brick and started to
rub and shave and chisel at the brick.
pg_0007
“What could he possibly be doing?” thought the brick.
The tall thin man was determined. He wanted some of the brick to leave…
but not in “regular” places. He wanted some edges to be smooth, some
edges to be opened, some edges to be entirely…gone!
The brick was disappearing. He would no longer be ordinary, no longer
good for a wall, or a design…or…or…even a door stop.
pg_0008
pg_0009
The tall thin man left the brick
on the table--for days and days
and days he was left on the
t able… alone. He was not part
of anything… and he was most
cert ainly not a brick anymore.
Spiders made their homes in his hollows; worms
crawled under him to find a place to burrow;
mice regularly ran over him or sat on him as
they nibbled away at some crumb left by the t all
thin man. The brick became very dusty…
and he waited.
Still there was that
feeling… it was that
old feeling… that
waiting, waiting,
waiting feeling.
What could he be
waiting for after all
this time? Why, he
was not even a brick
anymore-- no one
could use him or
want him now!
pg_0010
The tall thin man walked to the
window and placed each brick in its
special place.
pg_0011
When the brick looked at the other
bricks he did not see rough blobs of clay.
He saw whales, and he saw fish, and
leaves and frogs…and even worms and
butterflies--nothing looked like a brick
anymore.
pg_0012
The tall thin man
had changed each
brick. He had
discovered just what
the bricks were
waiting to be. He
placed them where
everyone could see
them. He was
smiling as he
touched each one.
The brick no longer
needed to wait. Now,
he was something--
something he never
imagined he could
ever be--but because
of the tall thin
man…
he was
art.