Every day the same buildings watch me go past, and sometimes they turn their heads aside from weariness. "Didn't that church have a spire, a sign, some stained glass?" I think to myself, "at least, something has changed," but the moment passes, and my face too turns away.

The building's eyes remain closed. Tomorrow it will look the same as yesterday, or the same as today, and we'll pass each other unnoticed, our façades newly-painted.

Tags: psychogeography