Pyongyang, North Korea, photo by Raphael Olivier |
Good architecture means the apartment numbering makes intuitive sense, so you don’t have to go check before calling the cops on your neighbors.
Good architecture means the roof doesn’t leak, so the stolen paintings you’re hiding in the attic don’t get water-damage.
Good architecture means having a solid front door, so it takes the police several extra blows to break in, giving you enough time to flush down the cocaine.
Good architecture means that when you break into your target’s house, you immediately know where the bedroom is, and he’s dead within thirty-five seconds.
Good architecture means that even the stairs to the cellar are well-lit and inviting, so your victim doesn’t know what’s happening until its too late.
Good architecture means that even as you watch your uninsured house burning to the ground, you can’t help but appreciate its perfect proportions.
Good architecture means your house has strategically located steps that prevent children and the elderly from following you when you need to be alone.
Good architecture means that none of your children can enter or exit the house without a creaking floorboard or a jammed window alerting you to what’s happening.
Good architecture means salvaging as much material from the old house for the construction of the new one, especially those memory-laden slavery-era solid wood floors.
Good architecture means that as you sneak out the house and leave your family forever, you’re compelled to glance back to appreciate how the early light playfully dances on the windowsill’s curves.
Good architecture mesmerizes you, makes you forget all the exploitation of labor and ecological destruction that went into making it.
Good architecture occupies you completely, leaving you no space to care about children, pets, plants, friends, family, happiness, or love.
Good architecture is the saving grace of villainy.
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