• Vol. 05
  • Chapter 09
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Triumph of science; plastic. Pure ferric oxide. Spooled carefully - with pen, pencil, pinkie - until the mess of guts retreats: pulls, spindles: snaps into place.

All this ribbon tamed, cassette gun-cock clicked, neon soundscapes can begin: slowly at first, building with pattered drums, until the synthesiser announces its arrival. All of a sudden: movement. The act of losing your memory. Replaced with something else: an aspirational life.

For three whole minutes the sounds solidify. The world is a spinning pillar, backgrounded by light. Light of luscious green, ivory, white.

As the fadeout fades, out into hiss - the bubbling bed of noise that scratches out silence - you slow, slump, pant. Tongue lolls like a dog. Flip the cassette, rewind, push play again.