I dreamed of a city, a city of square towers. Dun colored and built of subtle but obtuse angles, the tight packed towers loomed into the sky. They loomed squat and ugly. Uniformly horrible, the magnificent towers cast unending shadows into the deep, dead streets below. Regular crenellations of dry, open teeth topped each terrible tight-packed tower. It was a place of strange grandeur and excess, though the opposite of baroque. I think it was an oligarchy overthrown, making each citizen a terrible tyrant over one another.
The city was a place to visit in dreams and draw forth in dice. Dire, it waits in potentia. Someday, perhaps, brave and foolhardy vagrants will topple it, take its hidden gems, and walk away to stranger pastures.