[“Buildings shaking themselves awake at dawn.” – Kenneth Gross]
The morning sun stretches your metal skin. You await your daily infestation. You know you were created to last only a few years, then be torn down and replaced by a newer, shinier, metaller, bigger, cheaper, even more inferior sort of building, a building ashamed of itself for having taken your place so violently, suddenly.
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Memorable Fancies 
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