I stand in the centre surrounded by a cylindrical drone of rotating air con – a solid wall. From time to time a glitch punctures the wall and my ears strain into the vacuum outside, like a string drawn out from inside, spanning into blackness.
Below a carpet of static pulses and further off (below) I can sense the heavy belly of a metal body rising from some hidden depths.
I am outside, moving with some sort of snake-like creature as it flies through the air.
Slithering electrics. Overhead train lines. Metallic. (Up in the far right corner of the room.)
Back inside. I have the feeling I’m sinking. The carpet static is rising and I’m slowly getting closer to the metallic form beneath me.
I am somewhere cold, dark and damp. My feet are dry but sticky and solidly encased. Tentacles, or maybe they’re veins, trickle, weave and slide through the air towards me. Icy slithers. The snake from earlier? Electrical, cold white or silver blue. Wriggles of light in a velvet blackness. Almost hissing.
Vertical sinking becomes a horizontal seeping ooze.
My face sinks down, falls. Trickling along a ground. Seeping into dark gaps. Sucked up by damp soil. Awareness spread out now, listening and feeling in every particle of mud.
This is my skin. The dampness my body. I am porous, sponge-like. Heavy. My belly water-logged and sticky.
Download: Rebecca Glover ‘Rain’ 2018