Out of kilter photography: The wrought iron poets with their peculiar, angular attempts at space, form and wordsmithery are long gone. "Tone deaf!" said the surly modernists from their concrete plinths. Nobody was listening anyway.
Tourists stand there, confused, as they might in any city. Too many thoughts to think. The bones and girders may remain but none of how it was put together is easily fathomable. Particularly so when your head is full of bubbles on top. No abuse of alcohol was involved on the day either. Not even a single emergency ice cream either, just physics.
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