| Entry: | Come on, wall f.7150, why you gotta play me like that?
I thought you made sense. Mateusz and I followed your north face down, lovingly. We even found your weird little arm, mini-wall things. We found where you met with the floor f. 7153 and kept you guys together as long as possible.
But now, as we try and find your extent to the south, you make no sense. You are filled with pieces of roofing material stacked like Lincoln logs, but not terribly well. And you seem to extend, beyond all reason, past the southern extent of the trench. And what's more, in the profile, you seem like you are built on TOP of the floor makeup! How does that make sense??
The final straw was when we found what appears to be an oven INSIDE you. It was inside your mud-bricks, a perfect arch of vitrified clay, and extending into your neighbor f.3948. Now, I fear, we'll never understand your extent.
To add insult to injury, you revealed all of these mysteries just as Ian walked over. He, like me, wondered how it could possibly make sense that you lie on top of the floor makeup. With some "quick thinking" I hypothesized that you might be a rather crappy interior wall. The first part of that statement is almost certainly true.
But none of this explains how you can have a hearth inside you.
Maybe we didn't treat you right. Maybe we shouldn't have picked you apart so harshly. But it really seemed like the right thing to do at the time! Your roofing pieces just kept going, your burnt-up mudbrick had no end, and it all made sense until (of course), 2:40 pm when Ian Hodder walks over and you vomit up a hearth out of nowhere.
Let's call a truce, wall f.7150. We all did things we didn't mean, and tomorrow’s a new day. I promise to document you correctly, and to send the contents of your nearest neighbors your way, and in return you can start to make sense!
…Please? |
