Tristan Stevens, Fifthwall


The meter flutters red
1’s to 0’s and back
lip-syncing fluorescent silence
translating flashcards of intersections
frame by frame
clocking combination numbers
of date time stamp when I step
into the anti-chamber of the night pavement
filmed walking into the foyer
a still life hibernated by standby
ventilated by the rhythm of executive scent doses
gathering questions abandoned by us
I had the feeling that this is what will remain of me
– a departure point, somewhere to get off
the removal of the possibility of me being good enough
replaced by the promise of becoming individual.

Then the corridor towards this room
– one in a million –
and I’m thinking can I touch this
can I hug you, knowing this is something that
can only be seen through a camera lens?

And it occurs to me
what is the word for something the moment before
something begins?

David Davies