In Great Cities, Spaces As Well As

They Are All Beasts Of Burden In A Sense, ' Thoreau Once Remarked Of Animals, 'made To Carry Some Portion Of Our Thoughts.' Animals Are The Old Language Of The Imagination; One Of The Ten Thousand Tragedies Of Their Disappearance Would Be A Silencing Of This Speech.

The Process Of Transformation Consists Mostly Of Decay.

A Restlessness Has Seized Hold Of Many Of Us, A Sense That We Should Be Doing Something Else, No Matter What We Are Doing, Or Doing At Least Two Things At Once, Or Going To Check Some Other Medium. It's An Anxiety About Keeping Up, About Not Being Left Out Or Getting Behind.

There Is So Much Information That Our Ability To Focus On Any Piece Of It Is Interrupted By Other Information, So That We Bathe In Information But Hardly Absorb Or Analyse It. Data Are Interrupted By Other Data Before We've Thought About The First Round, And Contemplating Three Streams Of Data At Once May Be A Way To Think About None Of Them.

The Poet Marianne Moore Famously Wrote Of 'real Toads In Imaginary Gardens,' And The Labyrinth Offers Us The Possibility Of Being Real Creatures In Symbolic Space...in Such Spaces As The Labyrinth We Cross Over [between Real And Imaginary Spaces]; We Are Really Travelling, Even If The Destination Is Only Symbolic.