A replica miner’s hut near my home prompted questions about accuracy, memory, and how early houses are represented today. Looking beyond the image, this reflection considers how provisional huts became houses through occupation and change, and what is lost when that process is flattened into a fixed aesthetic.

I walk past a fibro cottage on Stringer Road most weeks over summer. Faded and modest, it will likely be replaced by something larger and more refined. Yet this small building once enabled a generous, forgiving way of coastal living, attuned to how people actually live and what they need from a house.

What if a smaller, simpler home is not a compromise, but a correction? This piece reflects on sufficiency, scale, and the quiet satisfaction that comes from building only what is needed.