Something Happened to Me the Other Day

When someone so much as touches a state vehicle, the wheels of justice begin to turn, and that’s that.
When someone so much as touches a state vehicle, the wheels of justice begin to turn, and that’s that.
There is a poignant vulnerability to dereliction pipe organs face in a world saturated with synthetically produced musical sound.
What pleasure, what gratification, can we offer to people that exceeds the pleasure of hating?
I like to think that this kind of deference is a Baltimore thing.
What are the implications for any society that emphasizes monuments to power and domination over imagination and the arts?
Is it possible to imagine the ballet world without a primary teleology of aesthetic perfectionism and a baseline of low self-worth?