i don’t like to shoot bricks. throwing them isn’t too bad. they’re smaller than cinder blocks. lighter also. most bricks that I’ve seen are red. one of the three little pigs used bricks to build his house. I’m pretty sure that his is the only that stood. smart pig. i think thats an oxymoron?
Joseph Taylor
hard
red
big
huge
home
apartment
force
strenght
amazingness
family
worm
edith
A brick house stand alone in a deserted valley near a waters edge. A lone brick is crumbling away threatening to ruin the foundation completely. A young man lives alone in the house, not caring to notice his humble home could collapse at any moment, leaving him dead inside with no one to care.
Kate
there was a brick house where a young girl lived, she was very sad but she didnt know why. One day the girl stepped out of the brick house. She walked a few feet and turned around to stare at her humble aboad. The house suddenly grew a mouth and eyes, it had long ears made out of pipes crawing up the sides. “Hello,” said the house, “I noticed you were feeling quite sad today. May I ask what’s wrong?” Shocked, the girl answered, “How did you know I was feeling upset?”
“Because,” said the house, “You live inside me, we have become one. I can feel everything you feel.” Utter surprise engulfed the girl. “Can you help me figure why i’m sad?” She asked.
kayla
The Brick knew it was a brick. It didn’t care that it was ignored by
Most of the other building materials. Stone was cold and wood was stuck up. Brick only cared about his fellow bricks.
Betsy
Brick. Is it a foundation that you lay for building something? A wall perhaps? Or is it the feeling of something heavy on your stomach? When think about things…. you know those memories that you have? The ones that are the pit of your stomach. Or that white stuff ya mama smoked when you were a child?
Vick the Slick
I remember reading how the great WR, Jerry Rice, would catch bricks thrown by his brick laying dad when he was a kid. That is how he suggests he became so good at catching ‘things’.
Bricks are essential building materials. They provide a sturdy foundation to many structures. Just ask the three little pigs about how important a brick home can be for your safety. They are secure. A little lonely. It’s good to have metaphorical bricks in your life as well.
Cynthia
I love the color of brick. Dark reds make me feel cozy and warm. They remind me of fireplaces… and a nice book and cookie by the fire. I wish I could live in a loft with brick walls… with huge floor rugs. Brick is the best.
a house is built one brick at a time. brick by brick, bird by bird. nothing happens overnight and my head is full of cliches that I need to expunge. BS
I threw a brick through a window once. I was super worried about getting in trouble for about a minute but not until 20 minutes later. That first 20 minutes I felt like I was invincible. It makes me want to do it again. But I am an adult now. Can’t get away with smashing the world…
brick’s are red. houses are made from bricks. they give people like me and sofya here shelter. cause we’re poor motherfuckers. but yeah, they’re hard and rough and scratch up my fingers.
Julia
the best brick is the crumbly grey-yellow London brick that I met in my early years in Streatham backyards and in tumbled heaps on bombsites – the few that lingered for us to play on, with their coils of wire and bottles and blown paper and loosestrife fighting up towards the sun
geraldine
one wall. one house, one town, one city one state, one country one world, all began with one brick one red square rock, building lvfes and nations
korrissa
When I see brick my mind goes completely blank and I cant think of anything to write about. Except I did just think about the fact that my bathroom shower could use new tiles. Well my whole house could use a lot of things, including new bricks on the stairs out front.
Casey Koch
i like seeing old homes made of bricks, old streets made of stone and brick. However i am not all that fond of the color… which is strange. I like a weathered bring, with vines growing up the sides, character.
callee
a man. walking along when all of a sudden a brick fell and shattered to dust, whats in that dust? where did that dust come from where will it go, all that mess, everywhere. just laying there being dust. or being much more? who will clean it?
korrissa
an assembly line of the same mundane life. Stuck together and built to block out the views of the extraordinary. KNOCK. IT. DOWN.
Elizabeth
Where did this brick come from? I think my father might have left it here in the basement, but why he would do so remains a complete mystery to me. Was he going to build something with it? Even if he was, why would he need just one brick? Ever since Dad passed, there have been a million and one questions like this that have haunted me. He left so much in physical, as well as emotional form. So many questions without answers.
Is the name of my friend’s brother. Or his nickname, rather. There are four brothers in total. One who is named XXX, and attacks the world like a lion. One who is name XXXXX, and does not strike me the victor. One who is name XXXX, and struts like a French king, in all his pomp and futility. And then there is Brick, who, alone, is self-contained, but without him, the family has no structure.
there was once a house made of brick that the third little piggy built after the first piggy built a house out of straw and the next piggy built a house out of sticks and the big bad wolf came and destroyed them the smart piggy built one out of bricks. and he huffed and he puffed and it didnt fall down.
Amy Jaimes
There was a river of red flowing beneath her feet as the pile of bricks bled endlessly. The flow seemed to capture her tireless toil; refining each and every brick to a near perfect rectangle. This was her means of living. This wasn’t just an option- it was survival.
Red brick became popular after the famous Chicago fire. People thought it was a good look. I hit a brick wall with a bicycle once as a kid. it was not fun. Brick is good. Houses made of brick are sturdy.
chad
Bricks are pretty. No one sees them, They think bricks are ordinary and boring, but they’re not. They’re gorgeous. No one sees the color, or the soul, or the remorse that bricks feel inside. It’s why they ignore them, and use them carelessly.
Bricks are pretty, I tell you.
so I heard she’d called him that day something she never did, and asked him to come home early, he said no, she said since when did you get so rigid and he said since when did you get so bossy and that was the last she heard from him,
you’re kidding!
I fell with a brick in my hand. It crushed my fingers as it landed atop my palm. I’m still injured and will never be the same again. The colour of the brick is changing with time. Maybe so will my hand
Reed
wall cement banksy art spraypaint yellow brick road castle climb basketball house cottage heavy constructing falling paint
brenda powell
wall
orange
hurt
brown
spraypaint
banksy
builder
construction
art
basketball
bounce
climb
heavy]
cement
brenda POWELL
I pushed at the brick wall, and then kicked, to feel how hard it was. It wasn’t very. I could probably break off a few bricks If I wanted. It didn’t seem hard. So I walked down to the corner, and broke off the first one I saw. It was the same as the others, rusty red, and slightly crumbly, but full of untold stories and soul. I dusted it off a little. Now what’s a good name for a brick? I would ask my sister, but she already thinks I’ve gone mad…No need to replenish that. I think Lucy’s nice. A brick would like to be called Lucy wouldn’t it? A brick would like to be called something, after being rolled around and pasted carelessly onto other bricks by lazy workmen who just wanted to get to lunch.
A brick wanted care. That’s why I was getting a pet brick, and naming it Lucy.
Bricks are so cool! I love Phil Brickman! Bricks can be red, black, but my favorite are brown. Bricks are strong, used for building. I think of spanish buildings when I think of bricks,.
Holly
I walked around the wall and inspected the old, red bricks. I traced the mold with my finger, feeling what men once worked for. An indent went under my skin and revealed a loose brick. I took a knife to remove it and saw what changed my life forever.
Hannah S
This brick is sick. It can help you with an ice pick. It help you do a cool trick. This brick rhymes with ick. KCIRB is brick spelt backwards.
Ryanne
He shot, and as the ball made the arc, it would find itself well off the mark. This wasn’t his game. He should have stuck to the books and maybe the bit part in the school musical. It was never what he wanted to be, but what he was good at, that would be his destiny. In the end, a true tragedy, he supposed.
Life is like a brick. It crashes through windows. It hits you in the face–and when it does, it hurts. It builds things–which is contrary to the thought that you build a life. Really, life builds YOU and lays around waiting for you to do something with it. Like a ton of bricks.
The dusty red piece of masonry was heavy in her hands. She hugged it close to her body, running as fast as her legs would carry her, trying not to think about the armed and angry men chasing her. Somehow, she found the time to berate herself for her actions – what kind of idiot stole a brick from a historical landmark?
i don’t like to shoot bricks. throwing them isn’t too bad. they’re smaller than cinder blocks. lighter also. most bricks that I’ve seen are red. one of the three little pigs used bricks to build his house. I’m pretty sure that his is the only that stood. smart pig. i think thats an oxymoron?
hard
red
big
huge
home
apartment
force
strenght
amazingness
family
worm
A brick house stand alone in a deserted valley near a waters edge. A lone brick is crumbling away threatening to ruin the foundation completely. A young man lives alone in the house, not caring to notice his humble home could collapse at any moment, leaving him dead inside with no one to care.
there was a brick house where a young girl lived, she was very sad but she didnt know why. One day the girl stepped out of the brick house. She walked a few feet and turned around to stare at her humble aboad. The house suddenly grew a mouth and eyes, it had long ears made out of pipes crawing up the sides. “Hello,” said the house, “I noticed you were feeling quite sad today. May I ask what’s wrong?” Shocked, the girl answered, “How did you know I was feeling upset?”
“Because,” said the house, “You live inside me, we have become one. I can feel everything you feel.” Utter surprise engulfed the girl. “Can you help me figure why i’m sad?” She asked.
The Brick knew it was a brick. It didn’t care that it was ignored by
Most of the other building materials. Stone was cold and wood was stuck up. Brick only cared about his fellow bricks.
Brick. Is it a foundation that you lay for building something? A wall perhaps? Or is it the feeling of something heavy on your stomach? When think about things…. you know those memories that you have? The ones that are the pit of your stomach. Or that white stuff ya mama smoked when you were a child?
I remember reading how the great WR, Jerry Rice, would catch bricks thrown by his brick laying dad when he was a kid. That is how he suggests he became so good at catching ‘things’.
Pink Floyd paints a song with this single word without entire intention.
Bricks are essential building materials. They provide a sturdy foundation to many structures. Just ask the three little pigs about how important a brick home can be for your safety. They are secure. A little lonely. It’s good to have metaphorical bricks in your life as well.
I love the color of brick. Dark reds make me feel cozy and warm. They remind me of fireplaces… and a nice book and cookie by the fire. I wish I could live in a loft with brick walls… with huge floor rugs. Brick is the best.
a house is built one brick at a time. brick by brick, bird by bird. nothing happens overnight and my head is full of cliches that I need to expunge. BS
The architectural blueprints for this house
Lie beneath layer upon layer of brick
Draftsman elbow deep in concrete filling
Spaces cracked by expansion
I threw a brick through a window once. I was super worried about getting in trouble for about a minute but not until 20 minutes later. That first 20 minutes I felt like I was invincible. It makes me want to do it again. But I am an adult now. Can’t get away with smashing the world…
Bricks in my head?
I’d rather be dead.
brick’s are red. houses are made from bricks. they give people like me and sofya here shelter. cause we’re poor motherfuckers. but yeah, they’re hard and rough and scratch up my fingers.
the best brick is the crumbly grey-yellow London brick that I met in my early years in Streatham backyards and in tumbled heaps on bombsites – the few that lingered for us to play on, with their coils of wire and bottles and blown paper and loosestrife fighting up towards the sun
one wall. one house, one town, one city one state, one country one world, all began with one brick one red square rock, building lvfes and nations
When I see brick my mind goes completely blank and I cant think of anything to write about. Except I did just think about the fact that my bathroom shower could use new tiles. Well my whole house could use a lot of things, including new bricks on the stairs out front.
i like seeing old homes made of bricks, old streets made of stone and brick. However i am not all that fond of the color… which is strange. I like a weathered bring, with vines growing up the sides, character.
a man. walking along when all of a sudden a brick fell and shattered to dust, whats in that dust? where did that dust come from where will it go, all that mess, everywhere. just laying there being dust. or being much more? who will clean it?
an assembly line of the same mundane life. Stuck together and built to block out the views of the extraordinary. KNOCK. IT. DOWN.
Where did this brick come from? I think my father might have left it here in the basement, but why he would do so remains a complete mystery to me. Was he going to build something with it? Even if he was, why would he need just one brick? Ever since Dad passed, there have been a million and one questions like this that have haunted me. He left so much in physical, as well as emotional form. So many questions without answers.
Is the name of my friend’s brother. Or his nickname, rather. There are four brothers in total. One who is named XXX, and attacks the world like a lion. One who is name XXXXX, and does not strike me the victor. One who is name XXXX, and struts like a French king, in all his pomp and futility. And then there is Brick, who, alone, is self-contained, but without him, the family has no structure.
Red. Hard. Warm and Cold. Cozy house in winter. Loving family waiting inside for me. Solid, firm, confidence. Standing firm in the face of adversity.
Red brick house, damp, moss covered, with a warm log fire inside, Sunday, relaxing
there was once a house made of brick that the third little piggy built after the first piggy built a house out of straw and the next piggy built a house out of sticks and the big bad wolf came and destroyed them the smart piggy built one out of bricks. and he huffed and he puffed and it didnt fall down.
There was a river of red flowing beneath her feet as the pile of bricks bled endlessly. The flow seemed to capture her tireless toil; refining each and every brick to a near perfect rectangle. This was her means of living. This wasn’t just an option- it was survival.
Red brick became popular after the famous Chicago fire. People thought it was a good look. I hit a brick wall with a bicycle once as a kid. it was not fun. Brick is good. Houses made of brick are sturdy.
Bricks are pretty. No one sees them, They think bricks are ordinary and boring, but they’re not. They’re gorgeous. No one sees the color, or the soul, or the remorse that bricks feel inside. It’s why they ignore them, and use them carelessly.
Bricks are pretty, I tell you.
so I heard she’d called him that day something she never did, and asked him to come home early, he said no, she said since when did you get so rigid and he said since when did you get so bossy and that was the last she heard from him,
you’re kidding!
I fell with a brick in my hand. It crushed my fingers as it landed atop my palm. I’m still injured and will never be the same again. The colour of the brick is changing with time. Maybe so will my hand
wall cement banksy art spraypaint yellow brick road castle climb basketball house cottage heavy constructing falling paint
wall
orange
hurt
brown
spraypaint
banksy
builder
construction
art
basketball
bounce
climb
heavy]
cement
I pushed at the brick wall, and then kicked, to feel how hard it was. It wasn’t very. I could probably break off a few bricks If I wanted. It didn’t seem hard. So I walked down to the corner, and broke off the first one I saw. It was the same as the others, rusty red, and slightly crumbly, but full of untold stories and soul. I dusted it off a little. Now what’s a good name for a brick? I would ask my sister, but she already thinks I’ve gone mad…No need to replenish that. I think Lucy’s nice. A brick would like to be called Lucy wouldn’t it? A brick would like to be called something, after being rolled around and pasted carelessly onto other bricks by lazy workmen who just wanted to get to lunch.
A brick wanted care. That’s why I was getting a pet brick, and naming it Lucy.
Bricks are so cool! I love Phil Brickman! Bricks can be red, black, but my favorite are brown. Bricks are strong, used for building. I think of spanish buildings when I think of bricks,.
I walked around the wall and inspected the old, red bricks. I traced the mold with my finger, feeling what men once worked for. An indent went under my skin and revealed a loose brick. I took a knife to remove it and saw what changed my life forever.
This brick is sick. It can help you with an ice pick. It help you do a cool trick. This brick rhymes with ick. KCIRB is brick spelt backwards.
He shot, and as the ball made the arc, it would find itself well off the mark. This wasn’t his game. He should have stuck to the books and maybe the bit part in the school musical. It was never what he wanted to be, but what he was good at, that would be his destiny. In the end, a true tragedy, he supposed.
Life is like a brick. It crashes through windows. It hits you in the face–and when it does, it hurts. It builds things–which is contrary to the thought that you build a life. Really, life builds YOU and lays around waiting for you to do something with it. Like a ton of bricks.
The dusty red piece of masonry was heavy in her hands. She hugged it close to her body, running as fast as her legs would carry her, trying not to think about the armed and angry men chasing her. Somehow, she found the time to berate herself for her actions – what kind of idiot stole a brick from a historical landmark?