The shade of all places that shall never be lies in plain view, obscured not by invisibility (that panacea eternally sought after by the wicked, for only the wicked and Waldo need to hide) but by mere artifice. Anamorph, o stretchy anamorph! Break the dexter from limb to limb across your grid, leaving a face that only a cylinder could love. Consider! Or better yet, reflect! And you shall see the alfalfa-lined path of return.
TAGS: architecture
