London
It is a spew-pit that wants to grow of its own accord in the absence of value determining markers.
A red scarf, blonde streaks, quirky proclivities, self-righteous gesticulations, there is an alarm somewhere. The times are tough but there are some things that the animals absolutely could not live without. The surfeit of material.
Dogbodies and territorialisation/ing nobodies sucking in big gulps of o2 and emitting degenerative frequencies; stares that take, that search, for another morsel of vitality to feast upon.