11.23, Saturday 12 Oct 2002

Although I've not yet read anything that defines my London, and even though if you ask me I can't articulate what it is about London I feel is most fundamental (and believe me I've tried), whether it's the pulsing flow of people, or the honeycombness of every room, or the fact horizons - social and geographical - are claustrophobic, like in the early days of the universe before the timecones had merged or more like the planet of the Little Prince, although I don't know this I do know that this property of the city is psychogeographical in nature, and what I want to know is: Where are the songlines of the internet? Where's the poetry? We build so much, but the spirituality is inherited from another age. This soul we have is inappropriate to the age of hypertext.

Look. This isn't a collection of computers. This isn't IP and RDF. I'm talking network layer eight. I'm looking into a mirror and seeing the world. Our limbic systems can hook like velcro in a dimension where distance isn't there. We're being held aloft by the strongest stratum the rhizome of humanity has ever created, and where are our monuments? Who is working our miracles? Give me fairy tales, give me myth. Pride. Wonder. Awe. So give us visions. Let us construct cathedrals.