& then there was one more, again, & again: in the crowded haven, crowded with chromatics unmixed and ideologies unexpunged, crowd-sourced fireworks as panorama exultant lacking a central point of focus, rhizomatic as the new war viewed from the common roof, unphotographable, and missives of other cities in the persons of friends from Los Angeles, Amsterdam and London pause, postdance, for this, in the relative warmth of grey on grey, and one—walled in on all sides with the jealous walls of history auroral—of a sudden crescendo of months punctuatedly unalone.