“Knock down the walls, Rock the foundations, Until the house falls. Like a pack of cards, Crashing to the ground. Then we’ll build a row Of identical boxes And sell them all off at treble the profits. Demolition.”
“A Sensitive Plant in a garden grew, And the young winds fed it with silver dew, And it opened its fan-like leaves to the light, And closed them beneath the kisses of night.”
(P. B. Shelley in The sensitive plant) Seraing (B)