I work in a lab where we study ants. Lots of ants. The lab building is old and retains some of it’s glory from way back when. It’s completion is a memory I’ll never own, but I assure you that there is more concrete than grass there today.
I am fond of the building, I both loathe and admire it. I hate the way it covers everything in metal and concrete, yet I can’t help but love that way in which metal and concrete conspire.
There is a particular need in lab buildings for pipe space, says my boss. We are lucky enough to have such a space that runs behind our lab. An inconspicuous door, cracked open, guards the sacred breaker boards and conduits, everything to run steam, vacuum, gas, distilled water, deionized water, tap water, hot water, and electrical wire.
There’s nothing mundane about pipe space.
Pipe space expands ad infinitum into the world and into the high blue sky, you can learn to love yourself if you could only step inside.