o9/o9 of the highrise illustrations.
and that's that. taken from the very last bit of the book where laing, having weathered the process of decay and degeneration, looks on as the process starts anew in the neighbouring highrise.
gosh, j.g ballard sure knew how to write a jolly yarn. but all snarky comments aside, this was a damn good book. if your itching for something a little icky and feeling particularly cynical about man kind, this'll go down a treat.
yeaaaaaaah, those unintelligible yellow blobs in the other building are _meant_ to be torch lights but i think someone had lost the will to put any effort into this by that point. shame on me.
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