Where's this from?«We already have some fail-safes. We have realized at least subconsciously if not fully and clearly and loudly - most of all loudly - that this littered debris might add up towards some greater cultural loss, that we might one day lose so much that we have as a society changed irreversibly and not for the better without our noticing, and so we have grates and filters and some watchers, many watchers, those conservatives in our society, but these watchers are terrible at telling the debris that is worth saving from the debris that is not worth saving, unable to tell needle from haystack because all the hay seems to them gold and fine, rather than incendiary straw.»
Inside, amid the flurry of menservants attired in sober black suits and pristine white gloves, you feel you have stumbled into someone’s private Xanadu. This is no mere rich person’s home, but a high-walled, eclectic, imperious fantasy that seems to have no boundaries.
The entrance hall is decorated not with paintings but with row upon row of individually framed eyeballs; these, the owner tells people with relish, were imported from England, where they were made for injured soldiers.