Monday, 5 October 2020


I am at the flat of my friends Bee Tee and Ell Tee. It feels very claustrophobic, almost as if we are underground – though it's certainly ground floor in my mind - and there's no sense of any natural light being allowed to penetrate. The walls are grey and drab, the hall a long, confusing corridor or sorts with plenty of doors opening to rooms off. I take a hurried shower in one of these rooms, aware that someone could walk in at any moment. The shower room, which is sparsely furnished – I don't even recall a basic shower mechanism, just the sensation of water and steam – is not even tiled or anything (and I get to thinking Bee will presumably tackle that job in future). There is even a strange horizontal rectangular opening, with timber trims, through into the hall at about head height- 

Going into the hallway I notice a seriously burnt, almost to the point of being completely carbonated, short French stick travelling along the carpet towards me. It takes me some time to realise that it is being carried by a troop of large ants. I stand back, somewhat in shock, standing on a giant shiny ant by mistake, popping it under the weight of my foot. There are even more aggressive red ants too – the same deep red colouring as poison dart frogs – and I urge Bee Tee to watch, marvelling at the speed with which these frightening insects can munch down and consume a whole leaf-

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