but I’m a romantic. There’s a Portakabin polling booth up in the sports field, under a fine silver sky. Stout Brits are out walking their dogs, dropping in for their inalienable right. And I’m thinking of Marlowe…
What right had Caesar to the empery? Might first made kings…
and Machiavelli finding solace from exile in his study, wandering the corridors of the Library of the Dead.
