i began the morning writing a tract – a brief history of the way authors have used the pre-title ‘a brief history of…’ but who could really be bothered reading all of those books? instead, we invented a new way candles might sputter when reaching the death-end of the wick, especially at 11pm, especially on westerly wind days, blowing smoke out a locked window. i tried to think of all the things that have happened. i lost myself blowsily in the undertone of american rap, the way illogical way we ‘pass our bitches along’. corduroy & nylon blends. 4 hours of soaked oranges reduced to jaffa mud & chocolate. we’re hoping to explode the cliches though i don’t hold out much hope & won’t tell you that. new ways of exploring our own bodies. plurality suggested to be overuse of ‘s’. never ‘z’.