Architectural Narratives : A Distant Glow
This project was a submission for an architectural annual competition in 2016 called “Fairy Tale” by the “Blanc Space”. It invited the participants to speculate and create narratives around architectural topics by submitting 5 visual frames and 5 paragraphs of the narrative.
Very early on (2016), as a speculation on virtual reality and its impact on human perception of life itself, we, a group of 3 Architecture students, created “A Distant Glow.”
Chapter 1
The city has always been full of motion and people. It seemed like a beautiful place, but I don’t know if it was truly beautiful or if it’s just a collection of childhood memories that makes me think it has always been.
I still remember the cool post boy with his silver bike—smiling as he dropped newspapers around the neighborhood. I wish I could have taken a short ride on his bike, especially in the big park near our house, where all the kids used to brag about theirs. I’ve always loved that park. I made wonderful memories there, especially the days I spent with my grandpa. He would sit for hours, reading his newspaper and watching over me.
There was also a café near the park where my grandpa would treat me to a cup of hot chocolate on cold days. I still remember the sound of the barista girl’s high heels clicking against the pavement as she passed by our window every morning.
Grandpa always had good answers to all my questions. I used to ask him everything that crossed my mind. He seemed to know it all… except once.
One day, he was smoking his pipe in the park and reading the newspaper when I asked him, “Do you know ‘…’?” He stared at me for a while, silent, a strange look on his face… as if a rush of blurred, familiar memories had flooded his mind.
Chapter 2
Years later, the boy had grown, but the city… looked nothing like it once did. People had left, one by one, with their families, taking nothing with them. And he had just watched them go. Leaving was not an option for him—at least not yet.
There was no post boy in the neighborhood anymore. The sound of the bistro girl’s heels was never heard again. The laughter of children playing, running, and shouting had disappeared. The excitement of New Year’s Eve had faded into silence. The city grew lonelier and quieter… and so did the man, lost in his memories.
The city felt abandoned.
Chapter 3
There was a place far away—distant from the abandoned city, distant from the now-old man and his memories—where people lived their lives fully.
Every morning, he grabbed his cane and left the house. After sitting on his usual bench, staring at his beloved yet forsaken city, he would set off on a long walk to that faraway place.
A good bike must be silver… blue is fine too! On cold nights whenever my mom cooked her special mushroom soup,the house was filled with the smell of the cream…wish I could see the town the way it used to be from the top of the Ferris wheel. After the café and it's bistro girl were gone, coffees never tasted the same… what did people want that wasn’t here?! An ideal life they could make for themselves on an empty field?! That’s what they were all talking about while leaving…but how is it possible to have everything with nothing!? By only using eyeglasses?!! I should visit my grandpa’s grave someday…I’ve got a lot of questions for him …I should also ask where he kept his pipe…even though pipes without newspapers and coffee, mean nothing...
Walking… thinking… until he reached the place where people were. That was his daily routine. Every single day, he walked the long distance just to see people living. But they were all gathered on an empty field… and they were strange.
They all wore glasses and did peculiar things. They walked on no surface, ate food that wasn’t there on tables that didn’t exist, drove cars to nowhere. Children laughed and played in parks that weren’t real. Life went on, but to the old man, all he saw were people—naked and lost in illusions, performing senseless acts all day.
Sometimes, he spoke to them. One day, he was surprised to see the post boy and eagerly asked for his bike! But the boy, excited and full of joy, told him he had something even better now—a flying car! The old man looked around, but he saw neither a car nor a bike. Still, he smiled, happy for the boy.
All he ever heard from these people was how wonderful their lives were—how, with those glasses, they could achieve anything they had ever dreamed of. To him, it all sounded like nonsense.
The days passed by, all the same: his usual bench in the park, watching people live their strange, disconnected lives, then walking home at the end of the day. He was growing older… his memories fading, slipping away.
He could no longer recall who used to take him to the park all those years ago. The taste of his favorite café’s coffee was lost to him. He no longer remembered the post boy and his silver bike, his first love, the streets of his town, or the spirit of New Year’s Eve. One by one, the pieces of his past disappeared.
Most of his memories were gone.
Some days, he sat with a pair of those glasses in his hands, staring at them. Years and years of doubt… the love of his past and the fear of this new world had always held him back.
Now, it was just him, an abandoned city, and the glasses that could lead him into a new life—one with the others. At least, if he wore them, he wouldn’t have to endure the long walk every day with his aching bones.
Chapter 4
Now, the last human who still believed in the world he once knew… finally gave up.
And as he put on the glasses,
the real world—one that had relied on human belief to exist—collapsed.
In its place, a new reality began.
Chapter 5
The city is always full of movement and people. It’s a beautiful city—almost like my cherished memories of the past. Maybe even better.
People seem happier. The post boy arrives every morning on his silver bike, smiling, waving at passersby, and delivering newspapers throughout the neighborhood.
Near our house, there’s a big park where children run, laugh, and play. I love this park. Every morning, I buy a newspaper and sit on my usual bench, reading and watching over my granddaughter. She plays nearby in her pretty red dress, occasionally waving at me with a bright smile.
There’s a cozy café near the park where I take her for a cup of hot chocolate on cold days. She loves sharing her dreams and fantasies with me, and I always enjoy listening. Sometimes, she asks peculiar questions, and I always take pleasure in answering them.
But yesterday, while playing, she came to me with an odd question. I just stared at her for a while… unable to speak. A strange feeling washed over me—a rush of blurred, familiar memories flooding my mind. Things I hadn’t thought about in so long.
Today, I’m not buying a newspaper. I’m not going to the park.
I just want to grab my cane and take a long walk… to a distant place.
Credits
Armin Rangani
Emad Lajevardi