The brick was the colour of the local clays, golden in the sunlight. It had the kind of hues that bring every moment from sunrise to sunset into Juliet's ever expanding imagination.
The brick was warm to the touch, the gift of the earth made solid as a rock in the furnace, strong enough to build a home with.
The brick was the same as any other, until one took a closer gaze. It was the hues of a earthen sunrise and as dappled as the light beneath a broad and well-clothed tree.
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