Encounters Of The Blurred Kind

I feel like a blown out tyre. I’d much prefer to be spinning above the speed-limit but there’s so much loose skin flapping about, I can’t keep the air in.

I had to change a tyre on my bike for the first time ever this week. It took so much jimmying and pushing the taut black rubber, I rubbed the skin right off my thumb. Five days later, the red-raw pool is starting to ice over. It looks like the great Red Storm of Jupiter, fading into flesh-pink obscurity.

Speaking of obscurity, check out this prophetic train ticket I got from the machines at Manchester Piccadilly train station.

2015-06-23 22.13.03

Turns out there is in fact a train service to the void. It departs from Platform 0 at midnight. It doesn’t actually go anywhere though. It just sort of fades from view, becoming more and more transparent until it fades into red-brick obscurity. It reappears all at once every night at 23:55; just sort of pops into existence.

Categorized as Diary

By Gareth

London-based artist