Underworld; 23.03.2018


Monday 23rd April


A travel card, an empty coffee cup, a small cardboard tube.
The sound of a radio in an upstairs room, the humming of a refrigerator,
an alarm bleeping in the distance. The sky that was once grey as slate
shifts it’s mood like a cuttle fish, grows pale & parts, revealing
thin blue puddles. The sliding of a wooden draw upstairs emits
a single note like a french horn. The hot water boiler starts up,
hissing with a low accompanying rumble. When it stops it wheezes,
playing a gentle harmonic flute melody that crossfades back into the sound
of the refrigerator & the exhaling breath of a lop top on the kitchen table.


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