“A fitting gateway to hell, my dear Maeve” “Its like some gothic cathedral” they were awed, each column of the bridge had two elements, so that one could look along the length of the massive brick bridge, where the pillars marched shorter and ever shorter up the side of the …
The future was a beautiful place, once. Remember the full-blown balsa-wood town on public display in the Civic Hall. The ring-bound sketches, artists’ impressions, blueprints of smoked glass and tubular steel, board-game suburbs, modes of transportation like fairground rides or executive toys. Cities like dreams, cantilevered by light. And people …
Last night I dreamed I went to Broadcasting House again. It seemed to me I crossed the road from the Church of All Souls and pushed open the heavy bronze doors, beneath Eric Gill’s statue of Arial with it’s (supposedly) truncated genitals. I must have done this a thousand times, …