¬ f r e q u e n c i e s #1

  Her complexion a faint white in the neon light, along a wall stained with pale patches, just the feel of her dry broken lips, chained to an invisible pole, guided by overhead wires down to the railway tracks.

  He throws a glance at his wrist, a habit, finds there is no watch, turns his hand and feels the pulse running through the blue veins. He's listening to a faint voice in his head faking adolescence: autumn/winter o2.

   I feel weightless, as if in a glass tank filled with salt water, head down for hours when i reach the end of the night. A once expensive scarf lies against a wall, dirty but radiant just like the flash of recognition that whizzles down my spine. A raindrop in my eye produces hexagons against the bill board signs and i have no time for bullshit like this.Okay okay he thinks, i shouldn't be here wasting time. Tel.01-55o2o1 and a cut up reflection in the shop window, luminously purple against the black letters: i wanted to tell you...

  A wheelchair appears from behind a corner leaving a trail of scented air, hot red wine. New Xs on the road, seen through the drizzleparticles, make human shapes in the distance. Twighlight figures on a flatscreen display eventually fucking their brains out.A surreal moment recalled from yesterday; a mixture of champaign and milk, inflexion of an ant between the blades, distant survivor. Like a mirage, the figure before her seems to defy the laws of nature.

  She kneels down between some submerged trees and whispers the words of an old song that should have been forgotten by now.Erosion patterns run down the slope interrupted by patches of ice. Here the land melts into the water, location plymouth, gb. He leans against white guirders at the seafront and a blue wind breaks through his clothes, countless stings, the end frame of a film, any film.

  Nicotine lines my stomach walls, and a plastic bag tumbles aimlessly over the road; I try to scetch together the last two hours. Grey fungus grows in a window frame: where is your favourite place to be? Proclaim a brave new world, the androgynous line of war captured here: a graphite box at the end of a line made from insulation tapes, insulated wires, networks what do you know... a crack runs over shiny surfaces, fading into the sky. She identifies a dozen or more structures the council had erected. She's talking to herself, admits she's confused, she doesn't want to even try. With eyes wide open she's picking up signals from a disintegrating planet.

  Incoming drum and bass at molecule-rattling decibels mutates like a body dragged over grit and gravel. In a short space of time he would be blown away, both he and his fairy tale world, saints going up in flames and quiet torture.I wonder whether the snow would ever melt if i simply fell asleep here, on a ridge high above the town. There is no escape or such is the cold, do not think for a moment that this was true. I disagree, i deny myself sleep for a couple of days.She peers out of the window, there goes this guy on his bike again...

  Her good mood awaits its grisly fate, it is true that there is never anything beyond the snow. No added bulk, she simply wanted to fuck him right now because she loves the colours when she comes.a white page with a black margin and a blue square: i remember her sitting on a swing in Berlin against the constantly morphing graffiti patterns in the distance, somehow this is an innocent picture but the window gives in to the impact of a stone echoing through the alley.The faces she sees seem to be made of insect's eyes, pixelated consciousness probing her, scanning her, right down into the realm of blades. She had made up her mind to stay a while. You are done.

  Free with an asterisk was a word he has known for years. It was consuming him. Act play n, he the protagonist in a mainstream film. How far did you get, man? You insisted, so that's what i've done, as i've always done. I can still hear her saying the truth is uncertainty and we both smiled.I look up at the sky wondering whether it was all about memory, likely a miniaturized version of what really happened.

max ensslin ~:) 16.nov02 2nd draft