Photogenic it's not, and takes years. All the cameras have left for another war. Again we'll need bridges and new railway stations. Sleeves will go ragged from rolling them up. Someone, broom in hand, still recalls how it was.
Someone listens and nods with unsevered head.
Yet others milling about already find it dull. From behind the bush sometimes someone still unearths rust-eaten arguments and carries them to the garbage pile. Those who knew what was going on here must give way to those who know little. And less than little. And finally as little as nothing.