The sky vacillated between blue and grey. As if the war that took place, that split along these lines would be argued again today. As if it would never be finished. All around, the memorials to the nameless dead and the singular heroic, those who survived the battles, drooped in shadow, a little more sullen and dark and dirty each day. Always, a new statue going up, a new battle to honor, a new class of remembrance. Not long before we build one for those newly dying. This is Washington, this is Arlington, this is Alexandria. Among the various upstart communities, the Townhouses, the planned and gated, the malls and metro stops, all well laid out, there is always the dead, the honored, the terrible price of our current predicament. In any moment of construction, we must always plan our memorial.