mεταƒοr.έs

Avoid eye contact and walk with anger and aggression. Keep your guard up at all times, avoid walking in a crowd of men, swing your shoulder bag backwards so that it can cover your butt, and keep your elbow on alert to push back any incoming hazards. Walk in twos not more and not less. Seek smart walking routes and make a longer turn if you need to. Know when nuisance becomes hazard, and react accordingly with forms of aggression that range from making a scene to being unabashedly psychotic.

Come to terms with the fact that your presence is problematic. Make your visibility a form of resistance. Don’t take yourself seriously. Get a massage when you get home. 

¬ R + A ¬

"If it had be possible at the moment to make a video I would have, but it was not possible. I had to find a way to film it first and then to make a graphic out of it. One of the reasons it’s in black and white was to save bandwidth so that people can in general see it. Otherwise it would be too slow. There are more than 100 files, and 20 graphics, and all of it’s only 72 kilobytes, which is pretty unusual by today’s standards. The trouble is that now it’s too fast. You click on something, and it’s immediately there. The narration is broken because of this speed."

"If it had be possible at the moment to make a video I would have, but it was not possible. I had to find a way to film it first and then to make a graphic out of it. One of the reasons it’s in black and white was to save bandwidth so that people can in general see it. Otherwise it would be too slow. There are more than 100 files, and 20 graphics, and all of it’s only 72 kilobytes, which is pretty unusual by today’s standards. The trouble is that now it’s too fast. You click on something, and it’s immediately there. The narration is broken because of this speed."

A tiny paper aeroplane was dancing in the Scottish fog in the wee hours of the morning. Through the echoes of drunken men and the forlorn cries of seagulls nearby, the plane floated unnoticed. A gentle breeze pushed the delicate wings sharply left, as it tapped gently on a window, unheard by the sleeper inside. It spun back and over the ageing buildings and the generations of untold stories contained within.

The Scottish wind then took the little plane in yet another direction, but too late: an incline of a roof below caught it and kept it hostage, the secret message it held never to be read. And as the weeks and months went by, the Edinburgh rain slowly disintegrated the paper, and with paper, the words: 

“I have chosen to make my own path, but I am now lost.”

- C -



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