Deserts and Dizziness and Demolition
Jan. 17th, 2007 11:15 amIt is Friday and you are the man playing a musical instrument: a tuba, perhaps, in the corner of the art gallery, surrounded by faces adorning the walls and mouths, real mouths, sipping wine. You see a group of people walk past you, speculating about how the scenes in the photographs came into existence.
You are in your friend's flat, taking photographs of a man and a woman while they sleep, sprawled across the bed in front of you.
You answer the door and it is a young girl, but does she just want her cigarette lit or does she want something more?
It is Saturday and you are distracted by trees when walking from Buckhurst Hill to Loughton and then get slightly lost, before walking past houses that have dragons on their gates and dragons in their road names.
You walk into a library and buy books on Arizona and tropical fish, intending to cut the books up to make collages with, but Arizona starts to appeal to you and now you dream of deserts.
You walk past the aliens and circle the spaceships that are made from baubles and dolls and plastic guns and feel dizzy at their shininess.
You are in a former factory that is to be demolished the next day and read on one of the walls "exit without saving".
You are in your friend's flat, taking photographs of a man and a woman while they sleep, sprawled across the bed in front of you.
You answer the door and it is a young girl, but does she just want her cigarette lit or does she want something more?
It is Saturday and you are distracted by trees when walking from Buckhurst Hill to Loughton and then get slightly lost, before walking past houses that have dragons on their gates and dragons in their road names.
You walk into a library and buy books on Arizona and tropical fish, intending to cut the books up to make collages with, but Arizona starts to appeal to you and now you dream of deserts.
You walk past the aliens and circle the spaceships that are made from baubles and dolls and plastic guns and feel dizzy at their shininess.
You are in a former factory that is to be demolished the next day and read on one of the walls "exit without saving".

no subject
Date: 2007-01-17 11:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-17 12:41 pm (UTC)(I got four out of seven.)
no subject
Date: 2007-01-17 12:52 pm (UTC)We were at Punchdrunk's Faust last night, which was an oddly similar experience, with all the early-90s typewritten factory paperwork, hidden treasures and uncertain-context "no entry" signs...
no subject
Date: 2007-01-22 12:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-22 10:54 am (UTC)