SAD3

The monolith was actually nothing of the sort. At its birth it was just a building. None would describe it differently now at first glance. To see it as a monolith is more an affectionate allusion to the life it led. Pieced together from undistinguished stone and wood, the building was more a testament to its architect's prowess than an attempt to achieve the immortality it has enjoyed. All the same, it stands solemn and silent, stretching tall through time as a uniform presence bearing its history plainly across the face of timeless surfaces.

The lives and culture which surrounded it inevitably tie their significance to its presence. Where once we might have noted its inclusion with passing indifference, we now count ourselves lucky to live and struggle tied to its presence. This is what makes the building a monolith. Not its stark reality, but the metaphor of what it has come to mean; an unlikely hero standing firm through the ages while life, love, ambition and death ignite and dissipate under its passive gaze.

How foolish we were to ignore it in bygone days. We missed its significance entirely. Only after time proved the true nature of this menhir did we deign to recognize the axiom. This monolith defines us.