UNDISCLOSED #10 – 26th October 2008

It is about 7am and I am walking up a stretch of road in the country. I am dressed in black.

 

I pick up a scattering of glass shards.

I pick up a bottle top.

I pick up a white plastic lid.

I pick up a yellow top.

I am walking along this road and in a bag by my side I have trinkets that I keep finding on my way.

I pick up a rusty screw.

I pick up a piece of rubber, old and brittle.

I pick up a piece of cardboard from some sort of packaging.

I pick up a feather.

I pick up a yellow flower.

I pick up a water damaged and sun dried soft porn mag.

A car goes by and the wind whips me in its wake. It is quiet, not many people moving yet on the road. A cockatoo squawks, rosellas are chattering. In the distance I hear the caw of a crow and now another and another.

 

There is a pleasant expectancy hanging in the air.

I pick up a purple shard of some plastic.

I pick up an old bleached bone, maybe from a bird.

I pick up a small silver cylinder.

I pick up red reflector shards.

I pick up a weathered cigarette butt.

I pick up a mars bar wrapper.

I pick up a broken pair of sunglasses.

I pick up a deteriorated thong.

I pick up a piece of black tube.

I pick up a mangled sweater of some sort, maybe once a forest green.

I pick up a cracked pen.

I pick up a squashed can of coke.

I have walked about 3 kms and my trinket bag is becoming laden.

I am at a siding in the road that is clear and has some space, somewhere a car can pull off the road if it needs to. A cow bellows in the distance.

 

I am placing the trinkets down. I place them to start to form letters.

I have formed three letters they are about 50cm high.

I am forming links between the objects.

I am putting some colours together.

I am putting clothes and shoes and accessories together.

I am putting rocks and bones and flowers together.

I am putting consumption rubbish together.

I am putting parts together.

I am putting glass together.

I am putting it together.

I have finished.

I look down at my two words formed from the detritus and the flora of the road.

It is the story of the road.

“Remember this”

I look back towards where I came from and go.

 

 

~ by jvulcan on February 15, 2009.

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