The Weight of Stone

We build to outlast the breath in our lungs. We stack stone upon stone, hoping the earth will hold the memory of our hands long after the hands have turned to dust. There is a specific kind of arrogance in this, a defiance against the wind that scours the mountain slopes. Yet, looking at these walls, one feels only the immense patience of the rock. It does not care for the empires that rose and fell in its shadow. It only knows the slow turning of the sun and the cold that settles into the mortar during the long nights. We are temporary visitors, passing through the silence of high places, leaving behind our monuments as if they could anchor us to a world that is constantly moving beneath our feet. What remains when the last inhabitant has left and the wind has finished its work?

Magda Biskup has captured this stillness in her image titled Leh Palace. It stands as a reminder of all we try to keep. Does the stone remember the people who once walked its halls?