ONCE upon a time, on an uninhabited Brutalist serviscape buiding called The Archipelago on the shores of Lake Algonquin, there lived a Baba-Ji from whose fedora the rays of the sun were reflected in more-than-oriental splendour.

As Baba-Ji was a Professor of By-Gone Architecture and Challenged Ideals, he lived by the lake with nothing but his hat and his G-Tec 0.4mm and a journal of onion paper that you must particularly never touch.

And one day he took pen and paper and cursor and pointer, powerpoint and prezi and made himself with the hlp of his partner Abba-Jan, one building which was two universe across and an earth thick.

It was indeed a Superior Rendering (that’s magic), and he put it on the concrete wall because he was allowed to touch the wall and feel the blood and sweat that had gone into this building so smeltly sentimental.

But just as he was going to enter this Superior Rendering (it’s still magic) there came down to the lakeshore from the Altogether Uninhabited Interior Street known as the School of Architecture, one Rhino with a horn on its program, more than two piggy eyes, and very few manners.

In those days the Rhino skin fitted quite tight;y. There were no wrinkles in it anywhere in Super Photo-Reaist fashion. It looked exactly like the architecture of a Noah’s Ark Rhino that went interstellar when you touched it, but of course much bigger.

All the same, this architecture had no manners then, and it has no manners now, and it is quite likely it never will have any manners.

The Rhino shrieked, Abba-Jan swerved and Baba-Ji left that onion skin journal out in the rain and climbed to the top of the Next Tallest but One building in the world, like a palm tree with nothing on but his fedora, from which the rays of the sun were now reflected in even more-than-oriental but senior splendour.

And the Rhino sensing a rogue move with stars in its eyes upset the concrete wall, the school of architecture, the lakeshore drive and all the beaver’s tails huts as it rolled out larger and larger intestines of building that could curl up like a therapy kitten or jump like those animals about to become one of those three firm zeros; an object-orienteted ontological desire.

The Rhino was now so cunning and clever it spiked that Altogether Uninhabited School of Architectural Thought on the horn of its self-determining software, and forced others to wave their therapy puppy tails and exit the Desolate and Exclusively Uninhabited Interiors which used to be schools of architecture.

But Baba-Ji came down from the tallest palm-tree buiding in the world, Abba-Jan entered an alternative reality and they struck out the rendered life and began reciting the following Unreachable Chora, which, as you have not heard, I will now proceed to relate:

Them that takes words
Which the Rhino imagines
Makes dreadful mistakes.

So THIS is the picture of Baba-Ji, the professor and Abba-Jan and the young Whippersnapper Speedalog beginning to have their cake and eating it eat and rhinoing the jingo out of all architecture-to-come on the Uninhabited Dark Side of the Archipalago on a very cold day; and this is the picture of the Rhino soft wearing its skin and crashing down from the Altogether Uninhabited Architiecture of the Three Firm Zeros, which, as you can truthfully see, is all slickly Rocky VI.

The Rhino now produces skins so smooth, so photo-bubbly and realistic and the three buttons that make up its undercarriage are of course underneath, so you can’t quite ever see them in the building that will be produced.

The squiggly things on Baba-Ji’s hat are now re-produced by the Rhino and Avba-Jan and Speed Along have concocted even more rays of the architectural sun reflected in more-than-oriental splendour, because if we had drawn real rays they would have actually removed the need for this Magical Render from the Uninhabited Interior of what has now become the Architect’s Mind.

Rhino as we now know it has a strong current, and the wheelie-thing lying on the sand in front of the Unimaginable Interior of the Reproduced Building belonged to one of Vitrivius’ chariots when he tried to cross Lakeshore Drive. This picture shows that quite clearly.

Baba-Ji found it, Abba-Jan sketched it, Speed Along fed it and they all kept the building on Archipelago and used it to play with a new version of Strictly Adult Minecraft.

Baba-ji’s name was James Vertigo and the Rhinoceros was called Raven because it breathed through the computer instead of its nose. I wouldn’t ask anything about the G-Tec 0.44 ceramic tipped black pen if I were you.

And there is a great deal more in that than you would think.

Because, five weeks later, there was a polar vortex in Lake Algonquin and everybody put on all the layers of clothes they had.

Baba-Ji put on his hat and Abba-Jan pu on his gloves; but the Rhino finally shed its shiny, bubbly skin, abandoned architecture as we know it and carried what was left of the rays of sunshine and splendour over its shoulder as it went into a New Cave to avoid the cold.

The Rhino of course was misunderstood and said nothing whatever about architecture-to-come, the School of Architecture now known as The Cheese Factory
Led by The Czarina or the Brutalist building because it had rudely frozen over. As the envelope was slipped over the old building we kind of know the result:
the Rhino has never had any manners, then, since, or henceforward.

The Rhino, not conetn with ruling the Photo-Realist World got even more frisky, experimented with three more firm zeros and waded straight into the ice waste and blew bubbles through its nose, leaving the architectural skin stretched out on the forzen lakeshore.

Presently Baba-Ji, one of those Masking Tape True Critics of Architecture came by and found the skin, and with Abba-Jan they smiled one smile that ran all round their faces two times as around all the buidings that were now being demolished.

Then Baba-Ji danced three times round the skin of architecture and rubbed his hands. Then he went to his camp and filled his fedora with cake-crumbs, for Baba-Ji never ate anything but crumbs, and never swept out his camp.

He took that skin, and he shook that skin, and he scrubbed that skin, and he rubbed that skin just as full of old, dry, stale, tickly cake-crumbs and some burned currants as ever it could possibly hold.

Then he climbed to the top of his Palm-Tree Architectural Wafer-Thin World called Packard and waited for the Rhino to come out of the digital water and put it on.

THIS is Baba-Ji exiting the Packard, branishing the Wafer, lifting the Archipelgao and crashing the Uninhabited Interior of the School of Architecture after raising ruckus whilst watching the Rhino Ravens bathing near the beach of the Altogether Uninhabited Algonquin Lake. This is the picture after the Ravens had taken off with what was never to become the world’s architectural skin.

Baba-Ji managed to get cake-crumbs all over the Rhino, they got into the skin and affected greatly the after effects; they went into all the layers and Bab-Ji smiles nows when ge thinks how they will tickle the Raven when she enters the Rhino again.

The skin that is the Rhino’s architecture is just under the rocks below the palm-tree in a cool place; that is why you can’t see it. The Render is now wearing a new more-than-oriental-splendour of the sort (that’s magic again) that were known in the Packard and everything is ready to leave the Rhino operators’s name on palm-trees.

The black things on the Archipelago are all out on the frozen lake and are bits of ships and architecture, nights and dawns that got wrecked going down the Red Sea; but all the architects apparently were saved and went home without quite knowing it. And without ever telling their story.

The black thing in the water close to the lakeshore is not a wreck at all, it is the Raven and the Rhino making jingo and another of Three Firm Zero; they are cavorting in digital heaven without their skins. They were just as black underneath as they were outside.

I wouldn’t ask anything about the G-Tec 0.4 mm ceramaic tipped pen if I were you.

And the Rhino pulled it off quit unlike anything had done before. It buttoned up architecture with the three zero moves as it tickled like cake crumbs in bed.

The Rhino wanted to scratch this magic, but that made it worse. So all it could do was to lay wide its Expanded Renders of the Unmentionable World and continue to lie down on the sands and roll and roll and roll, and every time the Rhino rolled the cake crumbs tickled worse and worse and worse, and the more AND MORE architecture took to the folds in the Rhino’s skin.

Then the Rhino ran back to the Palm-tree World Hotel and rubbed and rubbed and rubbed against it. It rubbed so much and so hard that it rubbed the skin of the architecture into a greater and greater fold, and another fold underneath, where the buttons used to be (but the buttons were also rubbed off).

And all this spoiled this digital temper and damaged the reputation of the Alotegther Uninhabited School of Architecture, yet it didn’t make the least difference to the architecture of the cake-crumbs. They were inside this skin and they tickled.

So Baba-Ji went home, very angry indeed inside (that’s magic too) and horribly scratchy at the thought of not being able to teach how the rhino can jingo the world out of anyting and become Three Zero Architecture. It is written in the Developer’s Code of the Unmentionable Conduct and from that day to this every Rhino has great folds in its skin and a very bad temper, all on account of the photo-reaistic cake-crumbs inside this architecture of never-ending whistle and squeek.

So Baba-Ji, profoessor for Unknown Life, days numbered in the onion skin world of journals, writing and Poems to the Raven came out of the tallest palm-tree hotel in the world, wearing his Fedora, from which the rays of the sun were reflected in more-than-oriental splendour, packed up his cycle, and went away in the direction of Orotavo, Oudawa, Algonquin, away from the Upland Meadows of Arriviste Architecture, away from the Altogether Uninhabited School of Architecture and the Marshes of Stayput.

THIS Uninhabited Archipelago
Is off Cape Ravishment,
By the frozen wastes of Adobe
And the Pink Ceramic Sea:
But it’s hot-too hot from Rendering
For the likes of you and me
Ever to go
In an unmannered Rhino
And call on Professor James Vertigo