Time is short but the hours are long. He sees the concrete edifice beyond the glass window he wills to flex under his numb gaze. The strongest instinct in him is to see this mottled and unoriginal scape pushed into the ground that bears its bloated mass. In a moment not far from now, he envisions all the manipulated materials returned back to their natured components. And as all is reduced to a swill of sand and water, these monoliths collapse under their own bulk. No longer will anything stand, unmoving, in the wake of his fantasy.
But as he blinks back fatigue, he sees it is all the same. This city and the world beyond it has no real desire to change. And neither does he.
Paddy Dobson
26th July 2020