Dark wolves stairs follows ceilings, everything in a corridor, black, the walls andbalished with decorative trim, Victorian, a big house in the corridor, multiple floors, the staircase bannister has a railing, an individual sluts to see above and below. A dark presence is there, a spirits, all spirits. I feel I may be in my grandma’s house, but it is no longer her house. Everything black and dark with the feeling of others present, that I do not recognise. Empty rooms, but monument one. I. I’m a rock pretending to be a human, just like the sleeping dragons, pretending to be mountains, curled, round, glittering lakes of gold with spiky ridges adorned with swamp and snow. Clouds of breath give them away. I know there is fire inside. I am in the city always very tall, massive buildings. They are lit up. It’s night. It’s like Regent Street or Oxford Circus or the city. I’m finding the way for others only I know this way. The buildings are unfronted. We can see in and beyond the dark. I’m on the main drag looking for that side turning. I see it until with bins a pavement No dream, but I keep seeing an image of an indigenous artist brought to Plymouth. He is wearing a traditional headdress. He holds up a placard made of cardboards. He does it for the cameras, but he is all alone. Three things. One, my dad’s giving me a massage, soleing to me in Punjabi Two I am playing. It is dark outside and my mum is on the phone. I am standing on a trolly with four wheels. It tips forwards. I fought and smack my face. I’ve knocked out my two front teeth. A man, I think he is a doctor who lives next door, holds me in his lap as I scream and scream and scream. Three. My mum is holding me. We are running down an Alley is a wave, a tsunami runs to catch us. She runs forward as I look back. We turn upstairs, and from a balcony, look down as the water surges below. I see my paddling pool go out and in and out to see again. It’s plastic must still exist on this planet. All these, but the last, I am watching myself, all these are my earliest memories. I wonder how I will, if at all remember today. We have rented a room in nextern to people have joined in our from Lebanon and Syria, Sudan, and Gabon Pakistan and India. We are looking at pictures of harvestyle and grimm’s powder, Hounds tall, and Grimm’s pow. We are paying attention to our bodies. We are thinking of our bodies in an extension of the earth As I look down, I see a part of a body, a flank or a ph within there is a straightened cool like structure fairly subtle and physically coherent with the skin. It has very it has wavy crevices running its length. It is breaking into blocks I was on an open grassy cliff top There were made path. I was following one. It was concrete with stone edging. I was excited to get to the sea and I began to run along the path. It gradually steepened and became steps. I could see the sea now. It was rough below me, and I saw a massive rock floating in the waves being tossed against the cliff. It was very, it was kept afloat by and unner What is it attached to it by its roots? Is it in the enormous bodlio? It was flowing back and forth in the waves. I was running fast now, down the steps when I suddenly realised that they had been destroyed, eroded. They ended, protruding above the violent water way below. I sat about. I just about stopped myself running off the edge and turned gingerly looking at the cracks in the concrete steps. There was a rusty.. punter, metal.. that I used to take some of my weight. As I pulled on it as I stepped ever so carefully, I became lighter and lighter. The more gently I pulled, the lighter I became. I was pulling myself up the steps, floating just above them. Ols specifically an owl on a bridge, sitting on the railings in the middle of a snowstorm, walking through thick snow, frozen cold, no one else is around, stopping to observe the owl and me a moment, then huge wings are opened and gone. The sea huge waves of solid liquid monument. Deep blue like tar. On a ship looking below, high above, below, dry scorched earth, barren, trees dead, stripped back, skeleton, winds of… immense force escape, piercing lights, blinding, rainbows of light shooting down, Escape, the end. What happened an hour? Sometimes I am a snake. corded tightly. I pulll my body off the ground and stretch high, twisting, curving round the pole, my spine bends, knotted, stiff, but mobile. I dig into the pole teasing my flesh with sweet relief. It will will it ever be enough An old woman every night taken off her shoes she fold it over a chair