At first glance, the grey concrete Soviet block-era high rises across the street from me. Lifeless, uniform, and uninteresting. There’s no sense of individuality, just one window after another after another after another. Lifeless. Uninteresting. Uniform. Bland. Blah.

I have heard of places like this all of my life. Places designed to crush a human soul. But despite the cloudy, rainy skies that are covering this town — that I’m only just visiting for the first time — there is not a sense of dismalness here but a sense of life.

They were designed and implemented by a philosophy that says all humans should be the same with no one rising up and no one lower down. But equal. Egalitarian. Balanced. The same.

And the philosophers can’t be faulted for their good intentions. They wanted to eliminate discrimination and inequality, and they sought to use something as simple as a domestic domicile in order to do that. The home is where our heart is after all, and if we can modify the home, it might also modify our heart. But just as evil has enslaved our hearts and has enslaved our natural world so too it has enslaved our concept of domicile. So rather than merely pushing us and nudging us in the right direction, the evil that enslaved these buildings has eliminated all sense of individuality and diversity and joy.

But then I look closer and I realize in this later end of their life, these solidly poured concrete structures do exhibit life. I can see on the end of the buildings, the inlaid fancy designs in the concrete that show arches and curves and nibs and bumps and nubs; that show some sense of style. And as I look towards the neighbouring buildings, I realized that they’re not entirely uniform, but each has its own distinct features. Is each of these minor details and differences evidence of resistance on the part of the original designers and architects?

And now, at this time, probably at least 50 years since they were built, there’s a sense of individuality. People have changed their balconies. People have applied paint. People have installed air conditioners, people have installed new windows. And you realize that these buildings that were designed to be uniform and lifeless and proletarian have now become something else entirely: a place where life can continue, a place where people must not merely subsist, but survive and thrive. A place people can call their own and they can say, “Oh, I have some differences.” “I have some preferences.” “I have some changes.” “I like things to be the way they are.” “I like the light gray. I like cream.” “I like dark gray and brighter cream color.” “I like white.” “I like to have aluminum windows.” “I like tiles.” “I like air conditioning.” “I like fancy railings.” “I like plain cement.” “I like reflective windows.” “I like clear windows.” “I like brown windows.” “I like white windows.” “I don’t like windows at all and I want to brick them up.”

But these personalisations aren’t intended to infringe upon other’s spaces — in spite of the difficulty of painting the exterior wall on the sixth floor or the 10th floor people’s individual spaces remain clearly demarcated. The only infringement upon the neighbors is through the sense of sight, but there’s an idea that this sense of sight is meant to be influenced in a positive way rather than a negative way.

And then there’s the signs of life. These aren’t just inanimate concrete structures, but inanimate concrete structures that house life. A string of laundry left out too long, now soaked by rain. Five lights of a chandelier seen through one window; another window ajar where a face looked out moments before; and families emerging from the streets in between these buildings, heading somewhere. Revealing their diverse senses of fashion in their attire and in the vehicles they drive.

The city, which is the historical centre of Georgia, abounds in religious imagery! Crosses appear at street corners. Churches dot the mountain tops. Even the national flag with its five crosses, denotes the five wounds of Christ on the cross. I wonder how these religious ideas have impacted this Soviet Block community that I’m looking at? How deeply has the truth behind those images and icons transformed the people who live within these blocks? This is a profoundly, starkly Christian nation. How has that Christianity worked at chipping away the years of negative political philosophy that formerly controlled this place?

As the legend goes, the Georgians were the last ones in line to receive a land from God. According to the story, they were too busy partying and didn’t make it on time. When they finally arrived and came face-to-face with God, he said “I have no land left because you guys are late.” In response, they happen to mention part of their celebration included a toast it to God himself. God‘s response of, “Since you have toasted me then I have a piece of land here that I was reserving for myself. I would like to give it to you instead” reveals a deep-seated Georgian understanding that even the very land that they live in is blessed by God.

It makes one wonder why humans decided to reshape this perfect landscape into the form of concrete apartments. And I also wonder how the deep embedded Christianity of Georgia made it resistant to Soviet philosophy? Was there truly no hope that this philosophy would take hold and thrive? Was it inevitable that Jesus and his influence on not only people’s individual lives but also on their national life would make them inherently resistant to other philosophies?

Is the metal cross, bell, and icon planted at the foot of one of these buildings, a sign of this pervading hope in the divine? Is this a more recent addition or does its presence here today signify this religious attitude’s continual presence in the hearts of the people here?

Somehow the human desire for uniqueness and beauty and colour and life emerges, even though the original plan meant to suppress and hold this back. It reminds me that there’s always hope for a better future and that when God created us, he created us with the ability to not be satisfied with the way people want us to be, but to live and thrive, and enjoy life.

Turns out people are the same after all aren’t they? They like to have beauty and joy and colour and variety and diversity.

Who would’ve imagined?