In the education of an architect, at certain critical junctures, there is a need to withhold language. While passage to non-linguistic representation is at times vexing, the existence of memories and images delays the inevitable appropriation of architecture by language. Holding language in abeyance is necessary in order to wander openly amidst the labyrinth of architecture. This stance is not an indication of the inferiority of language to architecture but rather a question of finding appropriate limits. This act of withholding allows architecture to stand and withstand in the world. In the space of learning an architect constructs a threshold between ambiguity and precision in silence. The act of constructing a mold to cast a spatial form in plaster, or drawing the lineaments bounding impressions of space, is analogous to making a building. These kinds of actions require precise thinking and making. They carry the weight and burden of the delay of language. This very delay makes an architect and architecture possible. / Master of Architecture