The seams of the sky opened up and showed you everything. And truth be told, everything was not as you’d expected.
Go, throw yourself down upon it. You’ll find it a total misnomer.
Steampunk building wearing goggles, and an outsized cocktail fork trumpets a city’s culinary hubris.
Some days, it’s all Rodchenko all the time.
Let us remember with fondness the house that Q*bert built, for it is no more.
A meeting at the Fairmont Hotel is taken.
A joke for those rich enough to get it.
We have always lived in the castle.
Architecture, a temple made by Man to the gods of memory, for us to be remembered, to house what is estimable and good. Sometimes.
The twin imperatives of architecture and thirst, icy and tall.
Says the SRO to the lofty so-and-so, “Yes, madam, but I will be sober in the morning and you will still be ugly.”
I want to go here: to the top. Can someone help?
Not to be sizist, but I’ve seen bigger back at home.
The time is nigh for the were-students of law.
