Edging closer and closer to the cities heart, the feeling becomes more intense. The circle Enclosing.
One becomes smaller and closer to ones self. Yet the cities architecture is grander, older, which puts the city into a greater scale. Whilst imprisoning you for eternity, transcending through the circles of hell. Only to be pulled back through it soon enough.
Again the claustrophobia is increased, noticing the leaning, intruding buildings craning above the normal height of street tops. Showing the space of more than one street, doesn’t mean it is showing vast space, more than you can see, from the ground… 9 circles
A constant guilty state of mind, continually circling, the intimate question of cessation. Yet my drugs a compass and wine a map they lead me stumbling out of the city, where short skirts and sex are certain. My want to leave and escape from the city comes not from the uncomfortable or embarrassment, but from the reward given by the determined solo exit that offers hours of isolated reflection.
Again the feeling reoccurs, not created by black descending from the top, but from structures and lines at the top suggesting an enclosed space. While the compressing feeling is present, there are suggestions of building tops, multiple layered backwards inspiring a vast space, this is a comforting notion amidst the streets of dread, however the rooftops give false hope, they cannot be reached, not from down here.
On the dark, narrow streets, there are facades, men who pass through the space, like passing through a deserted set of a theatre. A place, which appears to be inhabited by humans is baron.
The access to absence is given by the endless doorways in which these ghost figures use to exit the streets. The notion of men inwardly spiraling downwards at a glacial pace around the city. Never able to turn around and fight the gradual decline, instead descending down the inevitable spiral. Getting narrower and narrower, tighter and tighter and more and more claustrophobic. Yet closer to the feeling of clarity; geographically nearing the sea, and in the sense of ending and death. Acceptance of conclusion. It is not upwards towards neat clarity but rather downwards to a murky resolve, a coal black canal tainted blood red.