LINES by VANDA_project

VANDA_project initiative

Published by VANDA_project 2013 London

International © remains with individual artists and writers. All rights reserved collective © VANDA_project/ABSC_ND 2013 No reproduction in part or whole without prior permission from the publisher. vandaproject@yahoo.com Editor Victoria Coster Design/Layout Victoria Coster Covers Victoria Coster Theme VANDA_project www.vandaproject.com

ABSC_ND

An independent publishing platform dedicated to the diverse practices of artists, writers and multi- disciplinarians ... All pushing the boundaries of theme.

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Get_Covered

LINES I’ve been wondering of late ‘what the rules are?’ ... it seems like a random start I know, but it’s a question that seems to me to be applicable to every sphere of existence, entrenched in what should be, what ought to be, what can be and what has the potential to be. In art, music, literature, language, relationship! To toe the Line so to speak, to act in accordance to that which is expected, but what if we don’t do what is expected, if we metaphorically speaking, stand on the mountain top naked, tearing up the rule book, page by page, letting them fall in no particular order, allowing space for each one to re-order itself in accordance with the moment, can we simply continuously re-write our lines, our script, time after time? It’s ours to re-write right? Many thanks to all who were at the beginning of this first theme and many more thanks for allowing me to re-write you all a few months later. Victoria Coster ABSC_ND

CONTRIBUTORS

pgâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s

Aaron Doig

8-13, 40-43, 60-65

The Eloquence

14-15, 80-81

Metin Senerguc

16-27

Robert Fitch-Pomeroy

28-33

Boast 1

34-37

Violetta Liszka

38-39

Row Walker

44-45, 72-73, 88-89

Tracey Duncan Richardson

46-49, 56-59, 66-67

Neil Burgess

50-55

Anonymous

90-93

Victoria Coster

74-79, 82-87, 94-97

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â&#x20AC;&#x153;The art of mastering life is the prerequisite for all further forms of expression, whether they are paintings, sculptures, tragedies, or musical compositions.â&#x20AC;?

Paul Klee

Aaron Doig Desire Lines

Paths well trodden but less directed following routes unplanned to the destination of choice A to B via F! Across grasslands Fenced off areas Utopian dictation

VANDA_project initiative

What is it youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re really in search of? a more direct alternative? an easy life? Treading your own path to avoid the crowd the simplest direct access to where you want to be barriers or obstacles placed in the way ... fail

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New routes formed by Indiviual will.

Aaron Doig _Desire Lines

THE ELOQUENCE Introducing POETRY wtitten by ....

ALL ALIAS BEING REFINERIES OF MY EXISTENCE

ETHER: THE ELOQUENCE ALIAS GODDESS ELOQUENCE FIRE:

’ENLIGHTENED MASTER OF WATER/BENJAMIN, FLEMMERS

AIR: THAT SMOOTH MYSTIQUE EARTH: VOLUBLE SALVIA WATER: LAVENDER WATER

Instead of calling stanza create and use own language ‘Its Natured Phenomena’

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THE SPIDERS You’re little in contrast to the dark, We’re being switched on intensely; Ever seen a Sun bent on the nude Effectually it’s your legs that spark; To rouse and stretch my sight seeing Clothes on oh my aren’t we a dense look The night’s spun you into shape, Panning it on its head with patterns, That connecting as dots, is their glaring; And as the wind blows in your face Shivering with lines to make us overturned To concoct a story; wears thin suspense You walk in these opposites paralleled, Whilst adjusting vision sideways Every angle of light catches a glimpse; My peripherals posit you as apparel: Almost miles or so- sleeps- away Deeply entangled with your hatched limbs.

THE ELOQUENCE

Metin Senergüç

Employing a state of ‘boredom’ as a ‘raw material’.

“The phrase “boring” is usually people’s main reaction to a situation of paralysis or a defence mechanism, or avoidance behaviour. The state of boredom is a symptom of our existential or cultural limits, an index of what has to be refused in the way of other people’s cultural practices and their threat to our rationalisation about the world, nature and value of art… The question is: Could this anomie, with a particular kind of work, be used productively, and could this ‘deferred’ time of boredom be transformed into a new kind of artistic expression?”

Time will heal everything 2013

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Click here for status 2013

Untitled 2012

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VANDA_project initiative

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To whom it may concern II 2013

Metin Senerguc

To whom it may concern.

2013

VANDA_project initiative

Metin Senerguc exhibits regularly in London, sales enquiries for his Original pencil drawings can be directed to : vandaproject@yahoo.com

ABSC_ND_lines_Metin Senerguc

Robert Fitch-Pomeroy ...of communication

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A foggy autumnal Monday morning, the swirling air was cool and minty, I dragged on a cigarette, the first of my two brief morning breaks away from the grinding drudgery and boredom of the nine to five. The world seemed at ease with itself, calm and quiet. I smiled as a colleague, waving through the window of his Ford Fiesta, new, sleek, diamond white and I watched him park. As I exhaled, I watched Vladimir struggle out of his seat belt then place a blue tube in his mouth. This was my friend, Vlad the Inhaler. The fog slowly drifted in the wind, the corner of a grey, almost indistinguishable, building began to appear…“Good morning” he said, I turned my head, to have him offering me his hand. I strangely find myself shaking his hand more often, now almost every time we meet - you can take the man out of Romania…. “Indeed it is – on a beautiful day like today even the gas works and disgusting buildings that surround us disappear”. I noticed Vlad wearing a black corduroy jacket, not a victory of style over substance, and commented “You’re very well dressed today … well, for you. Interview ?”. I expected to hear the usual joke about his washing machine being broken, but he did not take the bait this time. “I had an interesting phone call this weekend” “My weekend was fine, thank you for asking”, I said as he smiled broadly, exposing the gap in his upper teeth and the crows feet at the corner of his blue eyes. “You only have interesting calls at the weekend ?” I asked. Dismissing my comment his slightly gravel tones continued.

“This woman”, his shoulders opened and he made an open handed gesture, “I met her at a Christmas party, about two years ago, a friend of a friend, you understand”. I leant slightly toward him and winked my left eye at him, exaggerating the gesture. “Yeah, I understand alright ” I said Faking slight agitation, defending his position, “No, no, no, it’s not like that” “It never is” I replied, slightly sighing, “it never is”… “We met at a party, had a few drinks, chatted, you know…we swapped numbers, I was hoping…” he became more serious, “I texted her later, three times … she did not reply” “Well, there’s your answer” I commented. “No, listen”, his speech became slightly more excitable, “She tells me she remembers me, asks me how I am, wants to keep in touch.” as his ego inflated slightly. “After two years, …mmmmm… she must be really interested”. “How could she not be interested?” he asked me, his tongue firmly in his cheek, so I played the same game, “I see your point, an upstanding member of society, steady job, home owner – well mortgage holder – of a certain age and stature, own hair and teeth – I assume”.

Vlad grabbed his hair and gave it a gentle pull. “Not to mention great lover and sex God” he chipped in. “Obviously – anyone can see that,” I said raising my left eyebrow briefly, “but I’ll take your word on that one”. “Did you leave her a voicemail message ? Did you Email her ? Does she have a facebook or twatter account?” “Twatter ? – What is Twatter” he asked. “It’s just a web thing where you share every moment of your life – with a group of strangers - if you’re a twat” I said, contemptuously. “She could have even written you a letter”, but added, after a very short pause, “but not in this day and age, I suppose”. Vlad became more serious, “She has dark eyes, they sparkle when she looks at you. Beautiful dark hair. She is slim. A good figure for a woman of her age” conjuring up her image in his head. “A woman of what age ?” I enquire “Well, she’s probably around” thoughtfully “thirty five”. I made no comment, then he added “So what’s twenty years ?” I asked Vlad plainly, but in jest “Have you ever heard of Albert Steptoe? He was a dirty old man as well”…

“Dirty old man?” Vlad repeats, attempting to sound shocked, “No, I have not heard of him” - I’m not sure if he is serious or otherwise. “Never mind” I say, aware that time was moving on and I had to be back at my desk. My employer, unfortunately, does not pay me to chat with my friends. The cigarette was almost finished as I dragged on it one last time, before flicking it across the road. I then checked my watch – it was time to go – break over. “Gotta go” I said, moving away from him, to re-enter the building again. “But I haven’t told you the really interesting part” said Vlad, slightly pleading. “Don’t worry, I’ll see you later” “You haven’t heard the best part” his voice slightly higher. “Save it til later. Give me something to look forward to” I reply, disappearing from his view, around a corner.

ABSC_ND_Robert Fitch-Pomeroy_of communication

BOAST 1 URBAN_LINES

ABSC_ND_October 2013

BOAST

Photo Aaron Doig

Violetta Liska Amin 2012

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Exploring the play between concept, performance, light and location.

Aaron Doig Made, Decayed, Re-made, Decayed.

Parking / Sleeping

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Row Walker Sir Vive Lives : Part I

It’s been three days since it happened, three days since I’ve eaten a hot meal. At night time the howls from the pack of dogs hunting us make it impossible to sleep. We found a water well today, we’ve taken as much as we can carry. I also found this note pad, I thought it would help take my mind away from reality, so far it doesn’t seem to be helping.

I get stuck in endless cycles of thoughts, each one more disturbing than the last, my legs end up trembling from fear. It’s the shear reality that it’s really real.

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Every time I wake up now I hope to find everything back the way it was. Each new day the fear grows as does my realisation that nothing is going to be the same again. I must change in order to survive, I know what I need to do and that’s what scares me the most. Now the greatest luxury is peace and relaxation, that feeling you only have when you’re in your own home, safe and secure, now it’s just a dream, a fantasy of the past. Every second must be observed, my senses are heightened to the point of paranoia. I’ve seen a few rabbits but we haven’t been able to catch one, it would make a change from tins of red square city rations. I’ve never seen my food killed in front of me before but at this moment being so hungry I would bite into its furry little neck, I imagine myself licking the blood off my finger tips. These are some of the thoughts that scare me just as much as our situation.

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Tracey Duncan Richardson Scanographic lines : Giving ambiguity to form

I wanted to create images which were as direct from the process as possible, thus drawing, painting in light.

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I had a certain amount of control but gave the rest over to spontaneity, chance, to a â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;somethingâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; which might exist in the space between our thoughts and the physical world.

Neil Burgess Beautiful Blasphemer

Her chrysalis unfurled but no-one noticed The changeling emerging with natural grace Ready to fly and spread her message, Her Divine duty for a new world to embrace. Slowly and surely her voice was heard Her words were hypnotic, her lyrics rang true. The attraction, magnetic to souls that could hear Awakening to a reality that was feminine and new. Her songs told of amazing deceptions Of prisons where we all thought we roamed free Our minds had been filled with so many distractions Advertisements, fashion, gossip, celebrity. Our jails had been constructed from fear Propaganda, misinformation and lies, Untruths about weapons of mass destruction Terror alerts, traitors and duplicitous spies.

The monster had been nourished by those before us Innocents who believed in all they were told. It was a whale of a lie that swam in their ocean Now harpooned by this woman, so bold. Its’ lies now exposed by a wound unexpected, Oozing its’ stench across the air The smell was reaching too many nostrils Its’ masters awakened from their lair. The media was harnessed to limit the damage. To apply a bandage of ridicule and fear They called into doubt her reputation And scathingly, mocked the beautiful seer. The tabloids led with ‘Ms Messiah’ They openly scoffed and began their assault They labelled her the ‘Beautiful Blasphemer’ Saying that She was the one to be held at fault.

Religious leaders made declarations That the saviour of our world had to be male. “We should never have allowed female clergy And now it seems that they want to prevail!” They wrung their hands in agitation Prayed to their male God that this woman should fall. They were sure that the Almighty would hear their pleas And that this would be an end to it all. The Goddess just smiled and continued her quest Serenely and gracefully speaking her truth. Those in power questioned her motives And openly demanded to see her proof. They acted covertly, showing their true colours Intimidating her disciples with acts of violence. Ordering them to denounce their leader But they could not break the believers’ silence.

Around the world the women arose And gathered together in solidarity. They embraced the men that believed in their cause And rejected those in their polarity. They would kill the beast and free the world From the misery that it had spewed for years. Womankind would again take its’ stand Against masculine ideals, and begin the repairs. The powers that be, could see no way out As they met together in their desperation The so called ‘Leaders of the Free World’ Plotted and planned the ‘heretic’s’ assassination. They had to ensure that the act was public In order for the whole world to see That the cause for women would now be ended And the planet would stay safe in masculinity.

Epic Lines

The fools underestimated the power of a woman No death or violence could shake that resolve. Their attack activated a much stronger movement With a speed never anticipated to evolve. The death of this Goddess made her a martyr And grief united the people in their throngs They vowed to carry forth the truth of their heroin And to immortalize her words and beautiful songs. As the movement gathered momentum The leaders knew they had to concede. They would never relinquish full power For theirs was a world full of greed. They allowed the female integration Into power bases never known before But still wanted the final decisions Made by men and made into law

Neil Burgess_Beautiful Blasphemer

However, her words now rose from the grave And were revered in all their might. Her truth lived on in the peoplesâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; hearts Now they would never give up the fight. The leaders had underestimated That this powerful new combination Of strength and truth and matriarch Was the key to total emancipation. The mission was to change the world And provide opportunity for itsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; rebirth. To right the wrongdoings of greedy men And to replenish our Mother Earth. As religions finally merged together Peace to all nations was borne. The splendour of woman was finally seen As the eve of the new era dawned.

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Tracey Duncan Richardson Scanographic lines : Giving ambiguity to form

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â&#x20AC;&#x153;The universe is made up of patterns as is our consciousness.

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Whether that consciousness is just from our brain or an all enveloping connected energy, one canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t be sure.â&#x20AC;?

VANDA_project initiative

Aaron Doig

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Light Lines

ABSC_ND_October 2013

Tracey Duncan Richardson Lines of communication

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I levitate, gravitate, to this undecided fate, loves fury, blew me, unto this towering state, the lines of communication, became signs for imagination, the words spilled, into a flock of birds, it filled, soaring, pouring, restoring, my darkness killed. After a little while, laughter fell away to a brittle smile, I felt it a bit beguile, or feelings in denial, unsaid complications led to unsound fluctuations, unheard communications led to incurred palpitations, a space of silence, became an internal place of violence, a case of ambivalence became patterns of prevalence.

I spoke awkward silence

ABSC_ND_Tracey Duncan Richardson

Row Walker Sir Vive Lives : Part II Unrest

The second food crisis gave rise to violence in the streets. The peace officers started executing anyone in the street who didn't show obedience to the visitors new ways. That's how mum died, she was murdered for having common sense, I was ten. People were hunted down for having questions and put into citizen training schools where they were told what to think. We were some of the lucky ones that escaped from the city before the lock down.

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The dogs howls are particularly loud tonight, they must be close, they're trying to scare us, intimidate us. Sometimes we hear the screams of their victims, it keeps us moving, always running from death. So far we have avoided the path of the dogs but I fear one day soon they will catch us. I'm supposed to be sleeping but how can I when we are being hunted like animals, prey to monsters without hearts. My only real hope is that when I die someone will find this note pad and read my words. Though I'm not sure what difference it would make, I am one of five survivors, all I can do is hope it stays that way .

Victoria Coster Power lines I_II_III_IV

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VANDA_project initiative

ABSC_ND_lines_Victoria Coster_October 2013

VANDA_project initiative

THE ELOQUENCE

DEAR FLAUTO PICCOLO MARVEL PT1: THAT TENDER WHISTLE

You talk me into that song-like form And yet to understand you One is reprimanded, thought alone And on the brink of discovery, in my book!!! You’re right, the feeling blew you away Having grew so bawdy Where credit’s due Scrambling from place to place is a soul A crystal ball’s eye, is that perception This game played very well is the joy A life ‘You’ enjoys to love a- gain and again In the back as well as foreground Isn’t that a calling out for me to join in…now And suddenly I’m ecstatic because… Where such an invites’ so rare A talk is said not to hear those very same voices

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DEAR FLAUTO PICCOLO MARVEL PT2: AS A CONSUMMATE CONDUCTOR

With the various harmonics; inhere placed Your clapping makes me feel blessed You don’t necessarily have to fly around words But you do enlighten mines with flights of fancy The delicacies poached, out of every rhythm Patching into my brain possessed The thought muscles vigorously work away Making sure everything correctly projects Such enunciation is one’s only divining rod; Not for its own sake For your much closer to feeling; Well, than your average human being could ever be; When taken seriously for a conductor Listening to you is one’s sessional therapy.

Victoria Coster

SIGHT_LINES

Obstacle I 2013

LINE_OF SIGHT

Obstacle II 2013

one

Obstacle III 2013

In_ter_vis_ible

D = the horizontal distance from the eye to the point of focus

mutually visible or in the sight of

one another

Row Walker Sir Vive Lives : Part III The price of freedom

only slept for an hour last night.

We got on the move before the break of dawn. Vive said we need a head start because the dogs sounded too close for comfort. He was right, we needed to get far enough away to start a fire, last night was too cold. Vive promised he would catch one of the rabbits and he did, it’s roasting over the fire as I write.

We’re down to ten tins of red square city rations, we’re so hungry we could eat a tin each to ourselves but Vive rations our food. We need to catch more rabbits before we cross the river and go into the forest.

Vive says we need to keep moving and nobody objects as up to now he’s kept us alive, none of us believed we would make it this far.

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I can’t’ help but feel that the price of freedom has gone so far through the roof that life seems pointless living. Freedom, a word and concept that I had never heard of before a year ago. Though I am absolutely terrified I think I feel free and it feels good. I don’t regret my choices, how could anyone wilfully hand over their mind to someone else and have their thought monitored, censored, rearranged or deleted until they fit someone else’s purpose in life. I don’t want to be a meat robot, punished every time I act human. It’s a death sentence, no actually it’s a living hell. A life worse than death, a slow torture, burning away at the very essence of what it is to be human. Freedom is now the most expensive commodity on the planet and I am definitely paying the price ...

but it’s worth it

Anonymous Thereâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s no party in Law of Parties 2013

Contributors have the right to be CENS_RED and remain Anonymous.

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Anonymous Spam-on-ymity From: ADRIANA (urwgzivvykj@bqpgxzwooa.com) Microsoft SmartScreen classified this message as junk. Sent: 26 September 2013 19:04:22 To: akedi@hotmail.co.uk Microsoft SmartScreen marked this message as junk and we’ll delete it after ten days. Wait, it’s safe!|I’m not sure. Let me check BABE... i guess your not getting any of my email huh? ive been tryign to email u so many times but this dam laptop is such a piece of garbage and keeps freezing.. anyways how u been? In case u dont know who this is its ME Adriana.. we used to chat a bit on facebook and then I think u deleted me :( haha.. anyways guess what... I got 2 things to tell u.. both good news.. 1) im single now.. yup me and my bf broke up about 3 months ago... and 2) guess where im moving? RIGHT EFFING NEAR U.. lol... ur actually the only person im gonna know there.. well 3 cousins too but i cant chill with them lol.. I remember when we chatted u told me u thought i was cute and u wanted to chill so now we finally can HAHA! im kinda scared to move.. im hoping this email addy is still the one you use and u can chat with me ebfore i get there.. maybe even help me move my shit in...are u still on facebook? i cudnt find ui was soo confused...anyways im gonna need someone to show me the town and take me out so u better be around bebe... we only chatted a couple times but i remember thinking to myself i wanted to get ot know u better when i was single..a nd i thoguth u were cute too but cudnt tell u cause i wasnt single lol...ok so more info about me.. well im 23.. virgo.. love the outdoors and love to socialize, go out for drinks, restaurants, movies etc.. travel.. i have a lil kitty named BOO and i luv her to death... uhhh oh im a super horny gurl too but every gurl is they just wont admit it. so ilove watching p0rn and all that.. love sex etc blah blah blah...who doesnt.. I really hope we get a chance to chat for a bit either online or on the fone before i get there enxt week.. i hope u remmeber me and still wanna chill and arent married yet lol.. OH YA also.. i need to find a job when i get there.. do u have any hookups or know anybody hiring? id LOVE to work in a bar or osmehting like that...really anythgin cause my current job is fun and all.. and technically i CUD

keep doign it but i want a change.. icurrently work from home and well thats cool but i need ot be outmeeting people.. oh wait. i dont think i ever actually told u what idid? hmm shud i......???? ok WELLLL... and dont get all weirded outon me.. i work on a webcam chat community site and i get paid to chatwith people and get naked HHAHA... BOMB right :)? I KNOW.. like i figure iim horny anyways why not get paid to chat with people and play with myself heheh...anyways i hope u dont look down on that and NO THATS NOT WHY IM CONTACTING U RELAX URSELF lol... i actually need helponce i move and i remembered u live there so im reaching out....like i said before this computer is a complete piece of CRAP and freezes NON STOP.. ive tried ot send this email to u maybe 3 times already and im hopign this time i can hit SEND before i run into trouble lol.. if theres anyone else logged in when u sign in ill boot them out.. but remember DONT SHARE THIS PASSWORD PLEASE BABE IM BEGGING U.. I TRUST U... im online most of the day now to try and save money for my move.. also since im in such a huge debt already form my student loan :( I really thingk we need to chat before i get there and make sure u evern remember me hahha.. anyways ive rambled on and on now and ur probably soooo annnoyed with me so ill stop now.. im gonna go start work.. i

really hope u come chat me. it wud make my day and releive a lot of my stress about the move... REALLY i mean that....anyways once i see u insdie ill shoot u myc ell number and u can gimme yours.. if u dont ANYWAYS.. heres the deal....every month natalie (my boss) gives each of us 3 VIP codes to give out to whoever we want.. so with this code u can lgoin to watch me at work for free and dont have to pay like everyone else... the only way i can give u one of the codes (so we can chat) is if you absolutey DO NOT give it out to anyone else and u ONLY USE IT FOR URSELF... i only get 3 a month and she gets pissed if more than 3 people use them so DONT SHARE IT MISTER... i figured u cud always email me back instead but my email account doesnt even let me login half the time.. so the bets palce ot chat me is my chat room... wanna come chat i understand but its really the only palce to find me now days.. if u email me abck ill probably get it once i get there after my internet is setup so about 2-3 weeks fomr now.. but im hopign to see u in my chat room.. rmemeber its 100% free with this code im gonna give u.. just DONT GIVE IT OUT OR ILL KICK U IN THE BALLS INSTEAD OF LICK U IN THE BALLS WHEN IS EE U hahahahha...k babe im out

for now... chat ya soon.. kisses xoxo Adriana

FREE VIP BYPASS LINK ---> http://www.SuperSxyadriana1992.com

Victoria Coster Hotel

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6am, the rain beats down in sheets - bouncing on the road several floors below the window, stretching the length of one wall, the wall to my left, the others have some kind of laminate covering them, they shine, picking up the reflections from the street lights outside, casting the ghost of a shadow as though on the surface of water, an eerie translucence mirroring the room to it’s depths. I watch the green curtains move to the breeze of the fan - it’s hot and humid - my mind plays over the drama that forced me onto the Bangkok streets so early. I made it into the Hotel only seconds before the rainfall. The woman at the counter, half asleep, one arm on the desk the other propping up her head

...the vending machine sighed and shuddered ... I noticed the row of lockers first. Yes This place would suffice for the next couple of nights, though stretching me to the top of my anorexic budget, barely leaving me enough for a plate of phad thai, 25 Bhatt from the market, the husband and wife, they always give me extra, it comes with a view, a ringside seat onto the passing trade, the footsteps that lead the night into action, the odd exchange in broken English, we smile at one another, them at my enthusiasm to finish every last noddle stuck to the paper plate and me at them simply for letting me, the silent acknowledgement that this was my only meal of the day. ... ‘Yes can I help you’

... ‘Yes do you have any rooms, for the next couple of nights’ ... ‘your cheapest’ I added.

The

woman thumbed through the ledger on the tidy counter surface, taking a key from the rack behind her head, she led the way, up three flights in silence, down a long dark corridor, past the shower rooms, almost to the end ... the bed was pushed up against the wall in the middle of the room leaving no more than a foot of free space all the way around, a cell ... a hospital !! ... ‘ok’ she said ... ‘ yes ok’ ... it was.

I replied and

On the wall to the foot a previous occupant had drawn a life size tree in marker pen, single leaves hung from the

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sparse cartoon branches, a Korean signature revealed the artists nationality. The woman looked at me again, waiting for further reassurance that the room would be taken, I nodded a second time ... yes it would. I was still in shock at not being shocked, i’d cursed, i’d left the building but why didn’t I scream, lash out, do something other than ask him to leave in an all too calm way .... confused ! It played like a movie scene over and over, a film noir, the setting was right for sure, listening to the mufled voices on the other side of the ply board walls, I could make out accents from at least three different countries, none of them my home land, it was one of those odd moments heightened by the

stark surroundings, I was alone ... the smell of smoke seeping through the open grill where the board finished and yellowed newspaper was torn away leaving open space, a space without divide, where my room became theirs and theirs became mine, I drifted in and out of sleep to the sound of drunken laughter, bottles clinked, cards being dealt, telephone banter ... 3am I need to pee, it’s no good I can’t hold back any longer. I don’t padlock the door knowing that I can keep an eye on the stairs from the toilet, which is opposite, this is the last floor in the building, the room is second but last from the end, but these thoughts only come when reflecting upon my foolishness ... I notice as I climb back into bed that the voices subsided,

but still I feel restless, disturbed by the movement that in a half asleep haze I think is outside of the room ... the rustle of paper, sounds that are indistinct, scuffs and fumbles and then it dawns on me that the sound is not outside, but is inside the room, I sit bolt upright as a black mass ducks down towards the table where my computer was left open from today’s work, I leap for the light and the mass confronts me face to face in full make-up ... I’m speechless but nothing happens, where is the anger, ‘Thai boxer thai boxer’ the mass speaks only inches away from my face, opening it’s purse to reveal nothing of mine that I can see ... I push him out the door saying only ‘how the fuck did you get in here!’ ... It’s 6am the rain beats down.

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