I think of architecture as language, and I look within the intra-communication between architects.

The world is meaningless and therefore it's funny.

I don't really know what's going to happen 10,000 years from now. We've been biologically modern for, what, almost 200,000 years? Let's go back to the cave paintings: I think the moment that someone landed a charcoal on a wall to describe reality, that's language already - that happened on a vertical surface, which, even though they didn't build it, somehow we could understand it as architecture because there's a cavity that separates the inside and outside. That's 40,000 years in the past.

The moment you put something down on paper it forces you to organize and arrange these thoughts a little better.

I see architecture as a form of communication over time.

Architectural drawing is a language with conventions where the rules can be deliberately misused; a well-composed architectural drawing can both contain correct and incorrect arrangements of meaningful things.

I think architecture could be understood as the construction of realities, or the construction of worlds.