Take, for instance, the fact that bricks are red. And red feels, somehow, deep. That reddish hue that escapes narrow definition as a Valentine's Day heart or a tomato. Instead, it's that deep kind of red that makes you think, Dude, if this deep kind of red was a live human being, it would quite possibly be one of those human whom you know is constantly considering profound information and uncanny wisdom as it applies to essential life questions.
Take, as well, the fact that brick is a word with which much can rhyme. Therefore, as people who live in a brick home, we can feel quite free to rhyme our home with lots of other words as we craft spontaneous couplets and sing them loud and far and wide with our windows open, such as: This home is made of brick; / Our flu is gone, no longer sick! / We dance in delight while holding sticks, / Because--yes!--we live in a house made of bricks!
And even though the two aforementioned benefits of living in a brick house are formidable and even hard to swallow on the first read-through (or at least fully digest), here is, perhaps, the greatest perk of them all--one for which pictures will have to suffice, since, as the old adage goes: a picture is worth a lot of words, maybe even one-hundred words, or even one hundred words plus an awful lot more words.
