“We were germs, it said, or we were dust.”


The Black Pad.

“The Black Pad is a wilderness seized, the urban sprawl of Wood End and Potters Green trapping it like a feral dog on a weakening leash.”

The Spire.

“That’s the Moonlight Sonata humming in the fillings of my teeth. That’s the cries of the dissolution that crow beneath the jaunty Ska beat. That's history writhing beneath us like the biblical Beast. Watch the mystery play as we play it today, take another slug of the hard stuff. It burns as the Christchurch had in the shadow of the Heinkel He.”