The past becomes echo chorus. All the telephone boxes in the Borough ring at once with voices we cannot recall, but who claim to remember us. Under their words, a language of clicks and sighing static ÛÒ the language of tomorrowÛªs city. ÛÒ John Chow, 1978
The past becomes echo chorus. All the telephone boxes in the Borough ring at once with voices we cannot recall, but who claim to remember us. Under their words, a language of clicks and sighing static – the language of tomorrow’s city. – John Chow, 1978
— ReptonGuide (@ReptonGuide) July 10, 2020