Gangs of mouth breathers and pen spinners, clocked at thirty mph, sharing the price of pizza and forum duties, claim dominance over rivals. Each a pole, a standard bearer, numbed by purple hair and hints of white panties, they challenge each other in homemade galleys to dice stacking tourneys, or a coin flipping friendly. Video is recorded and dutifully Youtubed, mp3’s downloaded and shared, the rotations of their generation grinding new foundations.
“But what happened to her in the room, surrounded by sound, music selected by a close friend, all light removed? She would swear to colour waves and wall murals drawn by her mind, to the brightest, clearest symphonies retold in vista. But she was alone.”
She fell in love.
“The indefinite article. His room becomes a room in the dark, marked not by the sound or sight of the contents but the presence they fill in the small space. Like a ship on water, the bed displaces space in waves. The wardrobe relays its position in echoes. Old ghosts chime, spirits trapped in the room in which their bodies perished.”