You dream the building tall and your hand reminds you the material will not hold what you pictured. Saturn squares Neptune, a vision that refuses any outline shearing against a structure that needs every joint to bear weight. Dream, and the not-building gnaws at you. Build, and you carry the ache of having abandoned the truer thing. The price ran through years split between two lives that never spoke: the pragmatic one and the dreaming one. Years of it taught the skill of making architecture out of dream, and dreaming inside the architecture. Both fit in the same building. The mystic who can also lay brick is a scarce figure, and you became one.