Dead cities

Living in dynamism is crucial to living presently. Nature suffices: leaves fall, water ebbs and flows, and seasons change; ecosystems are constantly aflux. Man-made things, however, are stagnant, inertial, repugnant. A man-made structure sits for decades with little change. As a collection of such forms, cities are great bloated carcasses. Not a breath flutters through them. They’re noisy, smelly, and painfully bright – no doubt. Yet somehow they remain perfectly frozen. Repetition layered thick: cars, bus, traffic light, train, coffee shop, bus, market, train, pavement. The only change to be found is in color, maybe sound, and never so deep as to touch the thing itself. Cities are archives of richness and vigour. To live in them is to die.