A SPECIAL PRESENTATION: BABEL

Rachael Haigh

The city never sleeps–no, it cannot sleep. Like an inverse Azathoth, once the hustle of the city gives way to dreaming, reality as we know it would vanish. So we feed it to keep it awake, with our attention and income–whether ill-gotten or otherwise–anything to keep the city’s eyes open for one more night.

Viewed from above or afar, the city appears before us as a bejeweled encrustation, a glittering barnacle on the World Turtle. But do not mistake this for artificiality. We built the city. It has been with us since the ages of Ur and Babylon. It is as natural as that barnacle on the shell of a turtle, or a hive of bees. Yes, the city is as natural as a spider’s web, but who, or what, is the spider?

Join us for a psychogeographic exploration of the city. Wander down the wrong alley; open the wrong door; step onto the wrong subway. All wrong paths lead us to the real city, the city within the city, territory that isn’t on any map. Welcome to

BABEL

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ART

ESSAYS

FICTION

POETRY

artwork by Robert Voyvodic