Sign outside of a lock-up on Sclater Street, 2007
A Life In The Shape of a Room Named ‘POP’
Entry point [ In -> ] to a room named “POP” _________ I hear the crackling of a record player, delicate guitarwork and a keyboard twinkle ___________ a man driven mad by the accident of birth and the stories that he inflicts upon the world ______________ before he sputters out. The room named “POP” will forever seem somewhat melancholy, aloof at the best and worst moments, filled with ghosts __________ ghosts of people ______ the ghost of the back of a car in summer on a sunny English Isle.
Northern voices on the radio reveal new doors ______ A cupboard marked (Lies), made of depth and darkness and anger, it holds a skinny shirt and tie __________ I put them on. Things spin into view, somehow, and the room named “POP” moves. It moves at a thousand miles an hour, spinning through traffic towards a destination soaked in sweat and sex and blood. Visceral ___________ Electric. A home in the centre of the city in the night. Between all the black and white and colour of the room named “POP” there is an overwhelming swell ________ of grey.
As the lights dim I can tell the shape of the room, and realise what I have always known: that the room named “POP” can only ever really be one kind of room. ____________Inside walls made of influences, passions, memories and encounters, it’s the place in the world you can be sexy and sad and lost and almighty _______ and forgotten.
_________ A Life in the Shape of a Bedroom Named “POP”.
© Matthew Sheret, 2008
The Polaroid Press 