Where elements favour water over air the disembodied lagoon swells with every lost breath. Vapourous dreams to feed cold stone lions. When a capsized forest of chandeliers pierce the mist from a second storey, the bustle hum of coughing engines splutter soft washing wake, delicately slapping the green clam clung fondament. Hollow hulls tap piles of oak. One million to raise a dome from the marsh, how many forests for a city?