White City

White City

As one sadly protest-free from sore throat
Taken nonetheless aback by the rapidity with which the WHITE CITY
(this on the following day when I did finally arrive)
Had shrugged curling back to old millipede shapes, plural slate rainbow hues focused post convulsion back into the WHITE CITY
(‘plural hues’ fried goods)
Having thus arrived in WHITE CITY, the OCCUPIED CITY for recently adapted paperbacks reading room’s black mirrors perusal hoping archaic reflection on current predicaments in the WHITE CITY
(this sadly before actually arrive)
Having missed opportunity for hurl abuse at my toad squatting my empty mind, one thing at least being indisputably hateable
having missed my opportunity for not everything to be refracted WHITE CITY
having failed to mention shining WHITE CITY’s shining walls are acknowledged plural foundations so the dread toad can white loam on our faces because NONE OF IT REALLY MATTERS IN THE WHITE CITY
Wherein all colours run into one is the WHITE CITY
Wherein I do not recall distinctly when it began, but it was months ago. The general tension was horrible. To a season of political and social upheaval was added a strange and brooding apprehension of hideous physical danger; a danger widespread and all-embracing, such a danger as may be imagined in the most terrible phantasms of the night. I recall that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and whispered warnings and prophecies which no-one dared consciously repeat or acknowledge to himself that he had heard. A sense of monstrous guilt was upon the land, and out of the abysses between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places. There was a demoniac alteration in the sequence of the seasons – the autumn heat lingered fearsomely, and everyone felt that the world and perhaps the universe had passed from the control of known gods or forces to that of gods or forces which were unknown. All of which is permitted in the WHITE CITY, and when

the following day wedding approach with esoteric bus reading of WHITE CITY’s possible broken legs
(this occurring sadly at moment of writing)
(this before sadly even belated iplayer failure
the following day I will recall that is now the past and the future comes in May and before the future are weddings because under the ivory bridges of Teloë flow rivers of liquid gold bearing pleasure-barges bound for blossomy Cytharion of the Seven Suns which you are also permitted to read alongside this year’s stabbing-free carnival according to any of the free newspapers available at selected points WHITE CITY

and sadly with sore throat apologise for off colour remarks wedding should be in context given WHITE CITY extracts together with all other blind, voiceless, mindless gargoyles whose soul is remaindered slather plural sediments