8. Drift

The emotional-historical resonances of this sprawling conurbation create spacetimes unsensed but as real as memory. Cut-ups and fold-ins on architectural scales transport me to forgotten fields (the skeletons of as-yet-unbuilt, long-since-abandoned warehouses hang ghostly and pale) whilst towerblocks abyssed by pirates topple and crash down about my ears (experienced verdancy undertakes experiments veering toward verticality). The dizzying diurnal discs of the sun and moon rise and set, rise and set.