For collective ownership of the means of production:
The Girl Ch. 17 page 72:
I had got desires now. It all broke on my tongue like some wild sweet fruit. As if my bark was breaking in spring, or mama rising in me, telling me how the flesh can die, be beaten and lost. I felt a great root springing down and a great blossom springing up, like my hair sprang out of my skull green, or a terrible root went into the dark with a hundred mouths looking for food.
Let’s see if this works.
Briefly, these illustrations give a chaotic and ghostly form to Marx and Engels’s Faustian metaphor of the bourgeoisie as a sorcerer’s apprentice, unable to control the energies it has invoked. The massive, top-hatted machines unleash their destruction, producing the strange bat-winged, ticker-tape headed spirits of finance capitaism, suggesting a reinscription of the image of solid sublimating to gas.
Here’s what the class chose:
From Martin Rowson’s graphic version of the CM: