There were old wrecks of machines, tumble-down buildings leaning together. Not an ounce of energy nor a minute of time left over from the awful, hopeless struggle. Sun in the wrong place where it scorches and burns and exhausts you. Black shade where you want sun and warmth. No comfort. The buildings lie inΒ aΒ heap, as if they'd been thrown there -- and there they stay.
It was over long ago, not with a bang, with a sigh.