London

The sky falls under the yellow cloud that builds the loud towers among which the rain pole walks. Gloomy weather floods into the river; turbid water climbs to the air; the tranquilized battleship anchored in the roofless museum. Behold! The marbles collapse against the patience for the inhabitants, the pleasure for the tourists, the reputation for the scholars, and the longevity for the politicians. Footless people rush through the wet caves to paint their tied red tongues in careless black within a three-story cake house; arrogance bats, hypocrisy throws, animosity kicks, rectitude runs, peace minds.