Rocks bear the weight of centuries.
Doors and windows connect, and let through, and open up… rocks stay. Steadily, until erosion takes them down.
I loved the mountains of Machu Picchu. I could feel how they still are growing and stretching always upward, aiming to touch the sky.
This window was built in an old monastery built upon rocks. The mother rock is part of the mountain, it was part of it a thousand year ago, and it’s still there, hidden.