Were I to design a city (and perhaps I have, if one’s personal city of the mind counts) I’d make sure to incorporate a convoluted, near-labyrinthine wall to bisect the city into halves. I’d do this, not to isolate one half of the city from the other, but to simply provide writing space for the city’s inhabitants. The wall, of course, would be accessible to everyone. A person would be free and encuraged to cross from one side of the city to the other through opulent and inviting gateways. The Wall of Chippia (and why would I call my city anything else?) would exist as an expression of everything but separation. It would figure, rather prominently, in municipal ceremonies involving crossings, re-crossings, and transits. The Wall of Chippia would—in essence—represent transgression; it would defile the very concept of what a barrier wall is supposed to be, by simply standing as an invitation to always journey to the other side, to render aggressive, insular barrier-walls useless. The Wall of Chippia would also possess windows. Small ones. Large ones. Plain ones. Ornate aggregates of stained glass, plastic, or whatever else window-makers would desire. There would be circular roads, always leading away from the wall…I’d call them Möbius Roads, though they’d lack the mathematical complexity of Möbius strips (those odd “one sided” objects achieved with a single strip of paper and the strategic placement of tape.) Each Möbius Road would loop back (after a number of cunning convolutions) to the opposite side of the wall, and travelers along such roads would reach the start of their journeys from the opposite direction. Chippia would be its own universe each of its sides would meld, seamlessly into its opposite, and each of its opposites would meld with their surroundings. Chippia (with its complicated and rather ornate wall) would be an open city, and an embrace of political anarchy in that there would be no arbitrary ruling class. True Anarchy (note the capitalization) is woefully hard for humans to achieve, but in the city-state of Chippia, a more literal meaning of the word would come into common use. Anarchy, the opposite of a monarchy/oligarchy/etc would be the municipal ideal. This presents a number of complications that would overwhelm the character-limits of a single post on this site, but suffice it to say, Chippian anarchy (like the Chippian Wall) would be a transgressive thing, likely to offend and greatly disturb both “conservatives” (note the use of quote marks) and loud-and-rowdy hooligans interested in a mis-interpretation of anarchy’s true socio-political definition. Chippia (and this is why it doesn’t exist) would thrive on Rule of Concensus. It would be, at least ideally, a true democracy in the way that some concepts of anarchy embody the ideas of democracy. In this way, however, a lot might be accomplished, but on the down-side of that, aspects of city life would exist in a perpetual state of…well…stalemate. Ah, but perhaps this illuminates another aspect of life in Chippia. There would be ambition, there would be progress, things would get done…broken things would get fixed…but life would balance in a perpetual state of beneficial stalemate. (There’s a lot more to say about that, but I’m nearing the end of my character allotment, and so I’ll simply stop the description here.) I first thought of my city of the mind when I saw the wall here. It’s an external support belonging to a storefront church in non-storefront drag. I have no interest in the church in question and the thought of going into such a church makes me itch, but I like it’s south-facing external wall. As always, thank you for viewing, reading, and commenting, and I hope you’re all having a great week. **You might wanna ZOOM in to full view for the details in this one.