Lost Prospective, gained Perspective;
He stared up into the rafters of the old run-down barn, taking in the sight before him; With a sweeping glance across the sea of timber hues, his eyes were first drawn to a long, singular support beam running the horizontal width of the barn and seating itself firmly at the junction of the roof and the walls. A pale, crude piece of wood; with no sanding or dye or finish. Rough-hewn and irregularly shaped, it looked as though it had been carved by hand. Its surface was littered with holes and indents and chips – rather drill and saw marks, and cuts, for they were obviously man-made – on its' three observable sides for the entire length. Halfway across its length, in the middle of the barn, the convergence point just out of sight on the top face of the beam, were two more pale pieces of wood which stood out from the surrounding timber. Also pale and unfinished, though much more clean edged and faced than the aforementioned, also covered in man made protrusions into their surface from prior use, though only on two of their faces, they extended at 30 degree angles and attached themselves onto the lattice-work that supported the roof shingles from inside and underneath.
