It was a warm September evening and we entered its spaciousness, which was not classical.

It was pleasant to violate the canons of proportion.

It was pleasant to imagine their life.

We placed our body in relation to their mystical privacies.

Nothing ever happened.

We were invisible.

Our architecture was also invisible and specific and vast and it faltered.

Our architecture faltered in its complete originality.

We called it civic lust.

The romance of proportion was not for us.
 
 
 

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Lisa Robertson

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