craving chocolate leaving someone else's home I ride against the wind up High Street searching for an uncharted supermarket. the only one still open glows over a carpark all but barren if not for overturned shopping trolleys. I tie my bike to the metal frame in place to keep them all in order. inside aisles are a mess with aliens and tall storage cages stacked with boxes of goods for restocking. shelves overflow onto the glossy plastic tiles. too much to sell not enough space.
characters of all genres glide round each corner on their own time. some move mechanical like robots others as though it's their first day on earth as though they're learning how to human. the spectrum echoes the feeling of a hotel lobby or some other kind of waiting room. a woman with dark violet shades the size of saucers marches like a funeral celebrant past the eggs. old workers young workers all workers grumble as another tower of non-perishables tumbles to the floor. customers crack open bottles of water milk bright fluorescent fuel to guzzle on their cycle from one aisle to the next.
unsettled radio static dangles hints of 80s nostalgia inherited through film. 'if you're lost you can look and you will find me...' the scene feels a little like a fever dream or vision maybe doomsday or the night before. a young man in black watches over the self-checkouts like his kingdom or a vulture knowing something that we don't. I escape with my soy milk and breakfast, followed by the lady with the violet saucers.
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