By: Toby Ferris
The Geography of Hell is well known.
Clarke proposes that we play a parlour game, which he calls Smash that Image!
My book was called The Roots of Ornament, but I see now that it should have been called The Rootlessness of Ornament.
We are discussing fortification. More precisely, I am discussing fortification.
There is, if we are honest, a chorographical drift in all of us.
The five of us might suddenly be adrift in a lifeboat, having just cast lots to see who eats whom.
In time, the animating principle of the city will be expressed in an evolved monstrosity…
…it is a system, let us allow, that is closer to love than we generally care to acknowledge.
Under certain conditions — in a garden, in the Ideal City, in a garden of the Ideal City — objects of knowledge achieve weightlessness.
The accidents of life are life, in other words.
Routines are composed of sub-routines, which are in turn composed of habits.
Or was I—a deeper or possible more pragmatic fear—merely a clause or a term in someone else’s contract?
If you try to walk its perimeter you are committing a minor spatial infraction…
We live in an age where the sky is not dead, but not yet peopled
And here was a map of it all, illegible, broken, zany, misdirected…