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  • i wake up... i see my painting on the wall, then the goldenrod recently painted hall, then her stack of make up large and small, the mirror smeared with our little lad’s scrawls, the surfaces cleaned up the night before, then the clothes i chose from my bedroom drawer, then me in the mirror dressed and smart, in the tailor’s art, ready to depart, then out to the streets, bumper stickers on the nearby cars, halloween dressing on the windows, the shops filled with adverts down the road, the baker’s fragrance filling my nose, the neighbour’s practiced cheery hello, the builder’s building and sharing the load, the businessman on his custom phone, about to explode, then a painter drops his can and fuchsia erupts all over the man, the man apoplectic, though painter apologetic, flings to painter the briefcase of fashionable brand, his rage is unmatched by his strength and it lands, with a bang, in the detritus left by the painter’s can, the pressure the clasp on the case can’t stand, victim of the businessman’s rash reprimand, papers explode all over the road, cars stop and passengers stare and all of the statutes of living erode, and someone with speakers tweaks with his tweakers and blasts out a tune, 'dark side of the moon’ and all of the flowers seem to suddenly bloom, and we all undress and our desires confess and feel free with the air and the breeze’s caress, with the feeling that something momentous, something truly tremendous, something awesomely stupendous will happen quite soon… and then i wake up... and i see my painting on the wall... and feel that something momentous, something truly tremendous, something awesomely stupendous will happen quite soon…

    (Sounds collected under a creative commons licence from koen, cfork, GR3AVE5Y, club sound, jackstrebor, in a new window, FreqMan, WIM, THE bizniss and Heigh-hoo
    Art from the side of a building in Church Street, Manchester, created by the Subism Collective)
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