The Purdzilla Show

Photo by  Alexandre Chambon  on  Unsplash From the twenty-seventh floor, the view was extraordinary. The imposing mass of the Marriott Hotel rose up on the left like a chalk cliff, striated by horizontal black lines: rows of windows half-hidden behind balconies. The sun, at its zenith, harshly emphasised planes and ridges. Directly ahead, reflections multiplied themselves into affinity on a complex structure of cones and pyramids of bluish glass.  On the horizon, the colossal concrete cubes of the Grand Plaza President were stacked on top of one another   like the levels of a step pyramid. On the right, above the green, shimmering space of Lumphini Park, you could make out, like an ochre citadel, the angular towers of the Dusit Thani. The sky was a pure blue. Michel Houellebecq (from Platform )

Photo by  Karen Alsop  on  Unsplash The long beams of sunlight, which were reflected from the moist walls in a shimmering haze, had pranked the chef's body with blotches of ghost-light. The effect from below was that of a dappled volume of warm vague whiteness and of a grey that dissolved into swamps of midnight - of a volume that towered and dissolved among the rafters. Mervyn Peakes (from Gormenghast )

The female body is a work of art. The male body is utilitarian. It's for gettin' around. It's like an all-terrain vehicle. Elaine Benes.

Photo by  Ryan Graybill  on  Unsplash Life without anything to read is dangerous: you have to content yourself with life and that can lead you to take risks. Michel Houellebecq

Photo by  Jesse Bowser  on  Unsplash

Photo by  Mac Blades  on  Unsplash As if nervous of disturbing the interior of the apartment building, the morning sun explored the half-shuttered skylight of the 40th floor stairwell, slipped between the broken panes and fell obliquely down the steps. Shivering in the cold air five floors down, Richard Wilder watched the sunlight approach him. J G Ballard (High-Rise)