On the evening of 11 July a small group of wanderers wandered along lanes, through forest and over heath. Stories were told of alien cats and winged horrors and Honda civics. Of laurel and cyanide. Of sheep rolling and foxes in vans. Rush lights were stripped. Mole hills were excavated and flints sparked. Goatsuckers sang their crepuscular songs while white tissues were waved. Chocolate was eaten. Constellations were traced near the 23rd post. Dark mirrors were gazed at and revealed subtle lights and gentle ripples. And phosphenes danced. And owls called. And the air moved gently. Then it was midnight and the wanderers went home.
This walk was part of Spacex Gallery's Topophobia
