We can’t tell where the game begins - its toys - and where the drama ends - the metropolitical tragedy. Therein lies the paradox of urban art, the paradoxical aesthetic between the panic and the circus games. Mockery, childishness or neo-terrorism, no work of architecture lends itself to laughter, contrary to sculpture it can frighten, seriously disturb, or sometimes even raise a smile, but joy is never part of the edifice. Just what will become of our cities, these concentrations of real estate inertia?