Here we are, on top of the utopian arc. The water is
shallow. An oil spill shimmers on the surface like a lens catches light and
folds it in front of a mirror. If someone stands next to you, they are there,
even when outside the picture. Which makes total obscurity relative to luck and
such. Unlike the law, architecture lasts. A façade, like an ideal, can be
oppressive unless balanced by a balcony on which you can stand and call down to
those in the street, Come over here and look up at us. Aren’t we exactly what
you wanted to believe in?