Tangled streets gird ornate palaces and pale townhouses, plastered over with classical divinities and emblems of victory. Each one plays a variation of the imperial theme in its symbolically infused facade. Wings and robes, kotinoi and trumpets resound in an enduring efflorescence. Every anthropomorphic pilaster and corinthian capital romantically suggesting far more than any current amalgamation of ferrous alloy and brittle silicon. When Nox arrives, the organic generation of multifarious melodies by composers long inhumed put the artificial perfection of present popularity to sonorous shame.
Yet, globalised modernity rises like a tide to drown bastions of antiquated practice. The majestic mirage is disillusioned by the commercial proliferation of 'Kassa'; reinventing itself as a curiousity to maintain a voided existence.
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