Damned Beaver/Jeremy the War, he is every assertion the fucking War has ever made--that we are meant for work and government, for austerity: and these shall take priority over love, dreams, the spirit, the senses and the other second-class trivia that are found among the idle and mindless hours of the day.. Damn them, they are wrong. They are insane.
Perhaps the Ci-ty dreamed of an-other, en-emy city, float-ing across the sea to invade the es-tuary... Or of waves of darkness... Waves of fire... Perhaps of being swallowed again, by the immense, the si-lent Mother Con-tinent? It's none of business, city dreams.... But what if the Ci-ty were a growing neo-plasm, across the centuries, always chang-ing to meet exactly the chang-ing shape of its very worst, se-cret fears?