[ Object World 1 - 10]

A black hardback notebook is lying open on the desk in the study. Written in pencil on one of the pages is the poem - ‘Things exist. There is also the non-existence of things.’

Objects present at the moment include - a postcard of the World’s tallest building - a can of beer - a pen that has just run out of ink - and in the background is the sound of an electric fan.


The window is open - and the breeze is strong enough to move the door on the opposite side of the room - the door moving slowly back and forth. On the table is a plate with a half-eaten bagel - an apple core - and an empty glass reflecting the light of the sun. On the floor is a small travel bag with dirty underwear to be washed by hand - and next to the bag is a large black plastic sack with jeans - t-shirts - and hoodies - that all need to be taken to the launderette.

There are loud reverberations coming from a building site  near by - the sound of a pile-driver pounding into the ground making sub-sonic mechanical beats. The noise of the machinery is being reflected back by a glass-covered office block on the other side of the square - but with a half-second delay. At the same time loud low-frequency sounds are coming from the speakers in the living room - with the sound-waves moving things in the apartment. Cups are rattling on the draining board in the kitchen - and a glass has fallen from a table onto the floor.

At the end of the hallway is a small room - no bigger than a cupboard - and with just enough room to fit a single-size mattress.  On the mattress is a pile of sheets - blankets - and a black canvas shoulder bag. A bare lightbulb is hanging from the ceiling - and taped to the wall is an Ordnance Survey map of Snowdonia.  Along the wall on the other side of the room is a shelf with a box of Kleenex - a pair of sun glasses - a packet of ginger biscuits - a white porcelain dish with a cone of Japanese green tea incense - and a Penguin paperback copy of Plato’s The Last Days of Socrates.

The room is a mess - with underwear - t-shirts - clean and dirty socks - scattered on the chairs and couch - and across the bed. There are drawers half open with clothes spilling out. Books have been left on the floor so they can’t fall any further - and on the table is a piece of cake going stale on a paper plate. Someone had trodden on a tube of face cream that had been left on the floor - and the cream has now spread all over the carpet.


In the morning - the light from the sun castes shadows of the window blinds onto the white tiles of the kitchen wall. And at night the sun is replaced by the sodium yellow of streetlights. There is a calendar on the wall - just above the white-enamelled electric cooker. The 12th March has been circled in red felt-tip - which is Jack Kerouac’s birthday.

Everyone is at work - and so the house is empty.  In the garden are two chairs against the back wall. One is made of pink plastic with black metal legs.  The colour of the plastic has faded - discoloured by the light of the sun. The other is a black metal folding chair - dented - scratched - and rusty.  It is a hot sunny day - and there is a mouse sitting in the shade of one of the chairs.

The car is full of rubbish - with the floor covered in plastic water bottles - empty beer cans - take-out food containers - and a copy of William Gibson’s Burning Chrome - that has been torn in half - leaving only the front part with the cover and the first three stories. On the back seat is a pile of clothes - and a large plastic sack of paper and cardboard to be recycled. Stuffed between the two front seats is an empty crumpled box of Kleenex - along with a Dominoes’ pizza box giving off a smell of stale food. In the glovebox is a half-eaten packet of peanut butter biscuits - a packet of black currant throat pastilles - and a collection of used tissues - some with blood. Hanging from the rearview mirror is a pine air freshener - which was once green - but now with faded colour and smell.


The bookcase in the living room had been moved from one side of the room to the other - and had left an indentation of its base on the carpet. There was also a patch of black mould on the wall that had been behind the bookcase - the mould originally hidden from view.  The wall has now been painted - covering the patch of mould - and the indentation on the carpet has faded.


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