My own beauty reflected The lake was silent for some time. Finally, it said: "I weep for Narcissus, but I never noticed that Narcissus was beautiful. I weep because, each time he knelt beside my banks, I could see, in the depths of his eyes, my own beauty reflected." Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist Narcissus and Goldmund beautyego
A World Where Things Only Almost Meet Recall that great line from Umberto Eco’s novel The Name of the Rose How beautiful the world would be if there were a procedure for moving through labyrinths. Only, here, it’s some lonely postal worker—or a geography Ph.D. driven mad by student debt—out mapping the frayed edges of the world, wearily noting every new dead-end and cul-de-sac in a gridded notebook, diagramming loops, sketching labyrinths and mazes, driving empty streets all day on a quest for something undefinable, some answer to why the world’s patterns have gone so wrong. A self-diverging world, where things only almost meet. Geoff Manaugh, BLDGBLOG www.bldgblog.com How beautiful the world would be if there were a procedure for moving through labyrinths urbanismgeometrydystopia