“Do not fear, my son!” cried the voice of the TaylorWimpey, “only the strong of funds can win a place in The Denizen! Only the well-heeled can afford this refined haven, only the prosperous own the right to be uplifted and calmed." Behind them Golden Lane had vanished. Nothing remained but the homeless beneath and the grey sky above and the heaping of skulls between and the ninth-floor penthouse upslanting, out of sight, out of reach.
Tag: Wilhelm Worringer