Napdra a Asturba

Far from an ancient Lvovian sanctuary of ruins, the grasshopper lies heavy; the natural world is driven mad by the fulsome intercourse of man and machine; yet we look with longing upon the nightshade of the world, such is our desperation; and no one who may perform arithmetic calculations in his head may also perform those self-similar calculations in his pants. The man in the high castle, notre voleur, moves on softly-padded feet, iron fist in velvet glove, sliding with equal ease between chat room and cat house. Where Do We Come From? What Are We? Where Are We Going? And thus Gauguin paints and Picasso pants can be purchased (in reproduction) in the gift shop of the Louvre. Art, anti-art. Expect mutual annihilation. While we are under perpetual construction. Here at Highcastle.