Wednesday, 14 September 2011


This is us.

Might, failure, oblivion.

The last days of Rome, Michelangelo's Medici tomb, Cage's silence.

Consumer immersion and its dying fall.

Vertigo maw. A pummeling in the stomach. Cliché of Absence.

The guts of an Aztec pyramid. Our Crystal Palace.

Sleekness of Speer. The New Corporate Gothic Minimalism of the public sphere:

Names carved in fire.

And they were behind us, reflected in the pool.
Then a cloud passed, and the pool was empty.

In the gift shop afterward, you twig that soon, when the gold streams run out, the meres will be drained, the jets switched off

This is us. Eulogising transience.

The slightest monument in history.

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