In this photo there are countless lines making countless angles (don't actually count, it's more about the metaphor of the thing here).

Those are human efforts made real. Those are plans in rooms, blueprints created by decree and collaboration, hammer-and-nail crew work, curses and symbols, laughter and lunches, expertise gearing into expertise. 

​Buildings are some of the most human stories we can tell. Every inch a decision, an increment of time; every colour connected to a preference or a metaphor. 

Also, you'll notice, the result is arresting. 

Can you explore without it? Can you create? Are there any futures ever made absent hope? Is that too many questions? I hope not. 

I disagree with the notion that hope is something idle, inert, amounting to little more than wishful thinking. Maybe it's a matter of definition or semantics — hope could mean something flighty to you and concrete to someone else. But if expectation is the birthplace of suffering (and it is. Prove me wrong.), then I think actionable hope is its antidote... and maybe its benign cousin. 

As the old proverb says: the last thing to die is hope. That it's a Russian proverb feels significant just now.

So I don't listen to or watch or consume or imbibe or wink at podcasts much anymore. That's too broad a statement now that I see it written, but not entirely untrue.

There are a few I'll still dip my toe in here and there, but for the most part, I've left that behind. It used to be a place to hear uncommon minds discuss a lifetime of uncommon work. A place to learn where to look for excellent, mind-changing discovery.

There were always the proto-mutterings of bro-bullshit, but the good always outweighed the bad. Now I'm lucky to find solid land in a desolate sea of screamers filibustering a dark-skinned Ariel because of... well, racism.