One day, long ago, a man stood where a city would be built and said, out of this city will be built a graveyard for the autonomous creativity of the mass, and it was done. And that city grew, and it churned and heaved with the sweat and frustration of the many, and the masters were spoilt and grew arrogant and fat. And the tale of the city was recounted by one who remembered its history, and those who heard them asked, ‘which city was it?’ And the one who remembered replied, ‘does it matter?’
Related Posts

I & I Survive: A Gonzo Odyssey Through the Long Night of Complex PTSD
‘What do you do when you don’t have words, you’re owned by your own destructiveness and maladaptivity, and you feel…
Ships in the Night
1/1. Life in the midst of war, upheaval and uncertainty: the daily possibility of becoming the next statistic, the difficulty…
Silent Majority PSA
We must have oppression or we will have chaos. If you think for yourself the terrorists win. The interests of…