You can see the beach from the brick factory, where pallets of new bricks wait in a warehouse without any walls. The shore glows iron red with bits of brick. These are the rejects, flung aside after firing and sucked into the sea. The bricks are perforated during manufacture with rows of wire-cut holes, but in these rejects the pattern of squares and slits is often twisted. However worn the outer edges of the brick, these channels are still sharply defined. People collect these folorn objects, which become far more desirable in their destruction than any perfect thing.
Some have been polished to slim shards by the sea, and if the waves weren’t so furious I’d try a round of ducks and drakes. All the bricks will come to this in time, but for the moment some are still recognisable, although it’s a strange house you would build with them.
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