And then, the world wakes up, it begins to pay attention to itself. It walks down a city street and notices the grey tiles, the cigarette butts, the dog shit and the pavement weeds. There’s glass between that shiny floor of it, it is complicit with law and order. It breaks no windows.
The girl next to me is fidgeting with a Kleenex: She is wearing big headphones, I forgot mine in the locker outside the library. I’m typing on the keyboard, her hands are occupied with the tissue paper.
She utilises that Kleenex to wipe off dust and dirt from her MacBook charger. It makes a subtle, but very dry, screeching sound. I look at her and look at her and then she looks back at me.
Invitation and text by Christine Dahlerup via Salon 75