Tales From the Box

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I am a big fan of an ode. The humble ode is something that is oft forgotten in this crazy, need-it-now society. So in my series of odes I pledge one upon the gyprock wall.

I love gyprock. The smooth, soundproof surfaces move me to words of rhyme and well put reason which I both share with you in this renovation season. O I wonder with cander and pace, how i ever existed in a such a testing homely place, that would seek to want to try to embrace, such a fibrous material in such a space. Many years ago the gentlemen who built our abode, were quite mindful of the strength and issue of the load, of the house upon the foundations strong, who when picking the walling were quite clearly wrong. They chose, as their minds or experiences might, have suggested and thought would be alright, the warped dimpled and deformed sight of the substance widely know as Masonite.

As this horrible material was pulled back, it was with joy that i made such a stack, of rubbish that would be left as a shrine, declaring that no longer would Masonite malign, the use and purpose of this new design. It must not warp nor bend but want for the clean look of this modern trend, that only fair gyprock could ever attend. The walls so smooth and ever so straight, that upon each surfaces every artisan could create, a wondrous work or form that would employ, such wonder, such awe, such inspiration and joy. Its nature, however chalky and dull, is remarkably quiet in the calm and lull, of a long day when work has seen you depleted, the energy stores of your legs which thus leave you seated, to admire the sleekness of the wall completed, and its wonder of its square beauty repeated.