On that clear-sky autumn day as you hiked over hills, two roads diverged in a yellow wood. You peered down both until their bends, both covered in leaves untrodden. Being only one traveler, and knowing that you would never return, you stood and pondered the path ahead.. In this pause, the slope would decide: you wanted to make your way up, to the top of you knew not what. Soon enough, you made it there, king of the hill. And from that place of seeing, you searched the other side.
What you saw there intrigued you, as if you had entered an unknown dimension of a world you thought you knew. A river carved its winding way through the valley below, and on the opposite wooded flank, sloping gently down to its bank, you discerned three odd structures rising up, each from its own clearing in the woods. Each seemed to occupy the same space both in width and in height, like a mature elm. Their two floors were raised off the ground on stilts, rooted into the slope just like the surrounding trees. The hawk looking down from above noticed their cubical forms contrasting slightly with the woodland canopy. Cladded in dark wood, you might not have noticed the buildings were it not for the early-evening sunlight reflecting off their large glass doors that opened onto their terraces branching out like bridges above the sloping terrain.
One of the structures was now shaded from the setting sun. You noticed wisps of smoke rising from Its rooftop. In another instant, the upper floors lit up like a lantern. It must be a place someone calls home. You thought that this was also a place you would like to call home.
To this new home, on a renewed planet earth, you gave this name: The Light House.