Growing up in Switzerland, a country with a rich Brutalist legacy, Broome developed a deep fascination with this architectural style. The term Brutalism originates from the French phrase béton brut, translating to 'raw concrete.' Coined by Le Corbusier to describe his revolutionary Unité d'Habitation in Marseille, France, the term gained wider recognition in 1955 when architectural historian Reyner Banham applied it to the British Brutalist movement. Emerging as a stark departure from the ornate architectural trends preceding it, Brutalism symbolized a vision of radical urban renewal in post-World War II Europe. By the 1960s and 1970s, its influence had spread beyond Europe to warmer regions, particularly Latin America.

While it fell out of fashion in later years, Brutalism has experienced a resurgence of admiration from a new generation using social media. This revival transcends mere aesthetics, fuelled by environmental consciousness and a desire to repurpose and adapt heritage structures, as evidenced by the viral hashtag #ecobrutalism. For Broome, the intervention of nature carries both ecological and existential messages: it serves as a reminder of our planet's fragility and transience, as even the most imposing concrete edifices can be eroded by encroaching vegetation.

From residential complexes and private dwellings, to theatres, libraries and churches, to water towers and electricity pylons, Brutalist structures demand attention, yet unlike their contemporary counterparts, they do so with an understated dignity and steadfastness. As Broome eloquently notes, they are "loyal, unwavering, stoic: the ultimate shelter." While their stern monumentality may evoke dystopian sentiments, their symbiotic relationship with nature offers a more optimistic perspective: humanity can coexist harmoniously with the natural world if afforded the opportunity for mutual adaptation.