Just as I walked past,
The wooden gate started to open.
Wide open it revealed a staircase,
A dark area behind.
I slowed down to peer in.

It was inviting me into this little world,
Inviting me to explore.

I looked around wondering whether I dare embark on this adventure.
Seeing other people close by I decide against it.

I walk on knowing I cannot fool myself.
Had there been no people I would have made the same decision.

Looking up at the ceiling,
There is a long crack in it.

I wonder what it would be like if I could slide through it.
-Squeeze through it,
Become 2D - Like Flat Stannley (remember him?)

I wonder where it will take me.
Would it be dark in there?
Or would it bring me stright out to the sky?
To the sun?

Yesterday I saw a tiny little bird.
A Bluetit – I think it was.
It stopped on the grey wall beside me.
Its blue breast shone.
It sang a little song.
Just for me.
I stopped to listen.
And when it was finished.
It just flew off.
Perhaps to sing a song for someone else.

- Thank you for brightening up my day. -

Today will be a good day.
That’s what I’ve told myself.
It has to be.
The sun is shinning.
It’s so warm outside.
We walked in through the arboretum.
It was green and colourful.
The flowers are in bloom.
It’s so nice and pretty.

-I forget my worries for a moment –

Sitting on the train,
Looking out of the window,
I-pod on,
Headphones in my ears.
Ben Harper comes on:

‘Walk Away…’

(and I can't stop thinking of him)

I’m sitting on the bench by the Cross.
On the phone to Rachel while I’m waiting for my cousin.
A little boy is running around.
He sees the pigeons
And runs straight towards them.
Chasing them in my direction.
I scream a little:
"Agh Pigeon!"
Just as I do a young guy walks by.
He sees my fear
And smiles at me.
I giggle at my foolishness
And he, seeing it’s okay,
Lets out a little laugh.

We said goodbye,
Fingers slid apart,
And hands dropped to our sides.
We parted in different directions,
Both turning back for one last glimpse,
Last glimpse before I let my happiness walk away.
He turns the corner,
I start to walk up the steps.
At the top, I stop,
Lean on the rail and watch.
I watch as time slows down,
And he strolls further away,
Then disappears out of sight.
I remain for a few moments longer,
Letting it sink in.
Then I too walk away…

Question from a tipsy boy to a very drunk girl:

"Are you okay?
Do you need help to get down the stairs?"

"No its okay –
- I’m fine
– just everything looks kind of wrong – you know?"


The boy smiled,
Took her by the arm
And they wobbled down the stars together.

“Are you being bitten …
… by a baby?”


- Imagine that -

It has been years since I have sat at this desk.
I normally just use it to dump things on.

The last time I remember sitting here,
I was still a school kid,
Spending most evenings studying late into the night,
- Candle burning -

I can watch the street from up here,
Yet I am invisible to them.
I see the man from across the road
Get into his white van and drive away.
I see Tom in a world of his own,
Headphones on.
Next door has visitors,
I don’t recognise them.

And as always I can see the TV flickering in number 31.
I can see the shapes on the screen,
I used to always try and guess what they were watching.

It’s darker now –
The street lamp outside my window has come on.
I see the street differently from up here.

I wonder if he isn’t allowed inside her house,
For years he has pulled up outside in his little blue car,
Either to pick her up,
Or drop her off.
But never once in so many years have I seen him go inside.

He’s been waiting there for ages now,
I heard him beep a while ago,
But there is still no sign of her.

I have never even seen him get out of the car,
Why does he never go to the door?
Is she hiding something inside,
That she doesn’t want him to venture inside?

Ah - here she comes now,
Ready at last,
Wearing red shoes and a maroon skirt.

- I wonder where it is they go -

I haven’t walked this way home in a long time.
But then I suppose I am never coming from this direction.
It’s early evening, and although it’s still light, there is a grey cloud overhead. It’s raining and there is a bit of wind.

As I turn the corner I quicken my step and turn off my music.
While I don’t mind it in the daytime, I’m a little wary of this bit as its darkening.
I am mostly out of eyesight and ear shot.
But it’s only a short walk.

I look left onto the racecourse.
Through the small gaps in the fence and hedges.
There is one guy flying a kite,
And a few lads playing football, shouting and laughing to each other.

I can see them, but I don’t think they can see me.

I near the end of the walkway.
It is clearer then it used to be.
They have cut down most of the trees to make way for the new riverside path.
Poor trees.
- Dead and gone.

I walk up the wooden steps.
I surprised they are still standing strong.
They look the same but don’t feel as weak and creaky as they used to be.

I walk along the wooden bridge path, next to the railway line.
The rain seems to be lightening up a bit.
I look down at the wooden slates as I walk,
Watching for it…

Although I know I am not near it yet.
I think perhaps I may not be able to see it in the rain.
I slow down as I start to near where I think it is –
- I stop
- I look down
And there it is.
The letters carved into the wood


F . . . . i . . . . t . . . . z


What was it we would talk about…?

I love to collect words, phrases, sayings, lines, quotes, conversations.

This morning,
I woke up wanting to share the beauty of the world with you.

The sun beamed through my window,
Warming my skin,
Gently waking me to this new day.

The song of birds eased me into the morning.

I opened the window and breathed in the spring.
I felt the fresh air circulate around my body.
Leaving me feeling new.

The world feels beautiful today.
The only thing missing was someone to share this with.
The only thing missing was you.

Time moves on,
People pass you by,
Things are forgiven
And in time forgotten.

What seems important now,
Will mean nothing then.

I can see them.
They could see me too…
…if they looked up.

But no one ever does when they are down there.
I’m in my own little world,
- Sound blocked out.
-they too are in theirs.

Yawning,
Looking around to check no one saw.
He thinks no one did,
- But I saw him
He’ll never know
- None of them will.

I wouldn’t feel comfortable if I knew,
- own time to think,
To reflect,

- No one else should disturb that.

I keep ignoring you-

-I'm sorry.

Sometimes you just seem like too much effort.

This sound –
I keep getting lost in it.
Feelings following sounds –
- Copying -
Maybe it’s because of the setting.
I’ve never really been bothered about sound art before,
But sitting in the dark,
In cinema seats –
It’s different.
I am lost in my own space,
Unaware of the others around me.
I wish I was here alone,
Just me and the sound.

He says he hasn’t got very good English, but its okay. It may not be that easy to follow but that might just be because I’m not particularly interested in most of the work.

You can tell he is struggling to get his words out though.

Makes me miss French.
I wish I had kept it up.
I wish I had kept my exercise books.
I’m quite annoyed with myself for throwing them away.
Maybe that should be on my list
- To relearn French.

*I feel bad that I haven’t been listening to anything he’s been saying.*

I’m not sure how or where to start.
The first line is always the hardest.
I'm past that now.

I suppose I should really start by explaining my work and where I am up to know. I know everyone has seen my cards – I have shown them before. But I’m not sure if they know what I’m doing now.
It’s all about the text,
The writings,
The accounts,
-oh and the odd (bad) doodle.
But this is what I feel comfortable doing.

Though I’m starting to feel really nervous now,
Just thinking about it.
About having to talk…

But I must carry on and get this done, leave the nerves till later – or at least until tomorrow. There is no reason for them to be here now, in my room, on my own- or so tell myself.

Presentation of the work – that's what I’m really struggling with.
How best to present the text. I wrote down lots of ideas but I’m not sure that I’m convinced by any of them yet.

I spent hours in the library yesterday.
Searching through books – a lot of it felt like a waste of time which was disappointing.
But I did find a page or two to treasure which I’m glad of.

I will show two Fiona Banner images.
One typed text,
One handwritten.
I have two books with slightly different images of the work I want.
I think I know which one I will use.
Eyes drawn to a word,
I read part of a line before my eyes scan
And are drawn away to another word,
A darker word.

See bad doodles -

Fragments as stand-alone pieces.
- I quite like that Idea, but then again I like a lot of ideas.
I’m just no good at making decisions. I hate them.
"Confused, bemused and I don’t know where I’m at." – That’s how Rich sums me up.

Anyway I’m getting off track.
Stephen Kaltenbach – I could talk about him.
But I’m worried I’m going to have trouble pronouncing his name which scares me. Silly, I know.
But his plaques – reminds me of all the benches and chairs I’ve been reading lately.
Small fragments of insight into someone else’s life.
Someone else’s interests and wishes.

I looked everywhere for the notes- but I can’t find them.
I’m annoyed at myself and the mess.
No wonder everything always goes missing.
I really wish I knew the name of the artist though.
Maybe one of the others will have it written down somewhere – ill ask them tomorrow…
…if I remember.

Interaction – not even sure if that’s the right word,
But it’s that thing I want in it somewhere
-that doesn’t even make sense.
I don’t make sense.

This idea – I want to do it,
But I don’t know if I will, if I can.
Scared.