I’m writing this on paper. The Internet is in the kitchen, dripping from a faucet but I don’t have a glass. It’s back to Majestic City – a cunning simulation of Circuit City after a week of heavy shelling and riots. It’s a pile of sweaty men and the strip-tease of alleged computer hardware in the back. The clerks hold Carbon Copy Kalishnikovs, holding back the hordes with signatures and stamps. There is no marketing here. It’s just a market.
Sometimes I think that if you bombed London and came back in 3 months it would look like this. Computers would still be on sale. You’d just have to deal with limbless beggars on the way out – tapping on your car window like spirits of the apocalypse.