Gazza282

We are standing before a cliff face of red rock. The colour is a primary red, bright and vivid. I stare at it for so long that my eyes sting and when I look away I find everything stained red. The sun behind us projects our shadows onto the cliff face; tall and gangly grotesques, red-black limbs moving awkward and puppet-like across the rock. The heat prickles the skin, an almost unbearable smell of sweat-sodden earth rises up from the ground. At the base of the cliff stagnates a shallow crescent pool, it reflects the redness and ruggedness of the rock giving the water the appearance of torn and bloody flesh. We are three men and a mule. The

Down avenues overgrown I walk drifting like a ghost on a wind shadows dance as I make my way through the underpass my thoughts mix with the humming of electric pylons streets like a jungle I have to cut through something is pushing through my outline in my sleep we talk through my dreams I like to wonder what each of them think what they do at night behind their walls hidden structures of thought cathedrals of repression Across this concrete plain walk blurring men and women keeping their pace to an unheard clicktrack people dressed in European grey calculated expressions passive gestures domestic reverence just like mine no names just numbe