agape past streaks of red over the partially demolished ruins and warehouses, fading relics of former generations soon to be replaced by unattainable towers of glass. future windows blown open like the now shattered walls, fragments of glass and ghostly reflections along ordered brick and stone. a civic architecture of a faded era, a time so like our own, now stands broken as the sun sets brightly, disappearing behind the dome of the lost monastery. imagine the monks staring in to a puddle in the corner of their cloister, their mouths agape, holding each other in brotherly love and horror, seeing in that muddy water the dancing children and drunk parents of a future century. the pretensions of religious life crashing through temporal ripples into the pretensions of our thirst. the red sky is the same, the ruins full of life, the streets not coffee shops but brothels. from the upper window, looking into the cloister, the patron can see, down the street, the broken toll gate hanging agape as another era passed, just as ours will pass theirs by way of a million intermediaries. 150206 ... past city_slivers 150215 what's it to you? who go blather from