
1970’s Maserati and Ferrari. And the Lamborghini Countach. And, Aventador. And 1963 Corvette. And, the Jaguar XKE.
These images, for the most part, concentrate on the Shanghai Tower {2,073 feet}, the Lotte World Tower {1,819 feet}, the Shanghai World Financial Center {1,614 feet}, the Ping An Financial Center {1,966 feet}, Taipei 101 Tower {1,667 feet}, Oriental Pearl Tower {1,535 feet}, Petronas Twin Tower {1,483 feet}, One World Trade Center {1,776 feet}, and the Burj Khalifa building {2,717 feet}.
“What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind…
Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
Thy soul’s immensity;
Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep
Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind,
That, deaf and silent, read’st the eternal deep,
Haunted for ever by the eternal Mind…”
“Beyond that, he has roused us, among thoughts of universe or universes and of our smallness in the majestic vague, to the awareness of “our private immensity” in the presence of those particles of which there are always more and more, and of which we are finally constructed…”
“But yet I know, where’er I go,
That there hath past away a glory from the earth.”
{courtesy of Wordsworth, and Gustav E}


The Hollow Men, read by T. S. Eliot himself.
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, read by the great Tom O’Bedlam.
Prufrock, read by Mr. Eliot.

The Emperor of Ice Cream, by Wallace Stevens, read by the incomparable Tom O’Bedlam.
Mr. O’Bedlam‘s at it again, with Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.


Read by Paul Mathers. Be Drunk, by Charles Baudelaire.
To The Reader {Au Lecteur}, read by the mighty Tom O’Bedlam.
The Albatross, read by no one other than Tom O’Bedlam.

Pied Beauty, by Gerard Manley Hopkins, read by the great Tom O’Bedlam.
The Windhover, read by the inimitable Tom O’Bedlam.

The Men Who Don’t Fit In, read, I believe, by George M. Economou. By the truly great Robert Service.
Moderation, read by Sir Thrustus Simmonds.
Moderation, read this time by the obscure Irish poet Argus Jones.



Fern Hill, by Dylan Thomas. Read by Tom O’Bedlam.
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, read by the incomparable Tom O’Bedlam.


Hound Voice, by William Butler Yeats. Read by the quasi-obscure poet Argus Jones.

Tacit lies the gold once-knotted horn. Read by The Argus Jones, semi-obscure poet of note/unnote. A bit of Pynchon.