I stared at it for a long while, this brick. Brick. Does it change meaning during the transition from small 'b' to big 'B'?
How different do those look to each other? Does one denote a general existence and the other an exclusive state of being?
Written in all uppercase, it resembles that which it denotes, does it not?
Solid, rectangular, ridged - slightly cracked, even.
Yet on thinking about this brick, I cannot help but feel the solidification of air inside my lungs; the boulder that forms in my stomach, the weight pushing through my cranium.
Because a brick, as we all know, is not just that solid mass with which we build houses. It is also an abstract feeling, an embodiment of discomfort and anxiety.
Above all, we must not forget, it is just a word. One with no chances of reincarnating into a higher state, or growing roots inside your very being.