For reasons known only to my unconscious, it somehow felt that it would be a good idea to wall the inside of the cabin in stone.
As I was slowly fitting the fractured stones together, I suddenly recalled the story of the Three Little Pigs, and the houses of straw, sticks, and stone.
It suddenly made sense — that after trauma one wants to build a house of stone, a house that cannot be blown down.
The acoustical and visual qualities of the collection of stones also seem to make it especially quiet and peaceful, a place to connect with one’s deeper nature, a place where time slows down.
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