Diameter three feet, three feet from ground to summit of the vault. Two diameters at right angles AB CD divide the white ground into two semicircles ACB BDA. Lying on the ground two white bodies, each in its semicircle. White too the vault and the round wall eighteen inches high from which it springs. Go back out, a plain rotunda, all white in the whiteness, go back in, rap, solid throughout, a ring as in the imagination the ring of bone. The light that makes all so white no visible source, all shines with the same white shine, ground, wall, vault, bodies, no shadow. Strong heat, surfaces hot but not burning to the touch, bodies sweating. Go back out, move back, the little fabric vanishes, ascend, it vanishes, all white in the whiteness, descend, go back in.Up in the hills behind this fair city, south of the windmill and north of the Red Rocks, someone has constructed Sam's design as a tourist attraction.
Access is guarded by ostridges who are under the impression that it is the largest egg they have ever seen. I have no idea what it really symbolises.
Next week's episode of "People who should not be architects" will cover Ludwig Wittgenstein and the Stonborough House.
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UPDATE: The Lost Ones makes a lot more sense when you realise that Beckett is designing a closed, self-sustaining arcology.
Abode where lost bodies roam each searching for its lost one. Vast enough for a search to be in vain. Narrow enough for flight to be in vain. Inside a flattened cylinder fifty metres round and sixteen high for the sake of harmony... Floor and wall are of solid rubber or suchlike. Dash against them foot or fist or head and the sound is scarcely heard. Imagine then the silence of the steps. The only sounds worthy of the name result from the manipulation of the ladders or the thud of bodies against one another or of one against itself when in sudden fury it beats its breast. Thus flesh and bone subsist. The ladders. These are the only objects. They are single without exception and vary greatly in size... The niches or alcoves. These are cavities sunk in that part of the wall which lies above an imaginary line running midway between floor and ceiling and features therefore of its upper half alone.
6 comments:
Access is guarded by ostridges who are under the impression that it is the largest egg they have ever seen.
Will no one think of the emus?
~
Emus are theft!
Look, I'm only going to say this once, and if you think I'm fucking around, just try me.
There are very few people on the intert00bz I respect more than Mr. Pinko Punko. And if you think you are going to hold him in indefinite detention in some black site prison without starting a whole lot more war than you can swallow, you're going to learn the hard way what lines you can not cross. Why, it's like burning a pork snorkel or something.
So. Turn him loose, right now. I won't ask again...
Rest assured that we are not holding PP captive and forcing him to labour in the lettuce mines. I was under the impression that the overlord currently holding him in thrall is of the miniature mutant variety, i.e. a baby.
But he IS being held in the prison of Big Texas Cloverhill Honeybun. A terrible fate, to be sure.
To be fair we saved PP from the great emu investment farm wars of '92. We managed to place all the others with a nice man making a film where they toiled for free but received lettuce from the masters table.
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