I whisper in colours
of time and space
Don’t you think I feel these scars,
the tightening noose of ivy?
No sun ever
yet my soaked skin
feeds green shoots
dusted with gold
I know that you’re wondering why my metal door is padlocked and sealed with concrete. That you’re thinking: who would build a structure like this? right here, not on any track or footpath. Why and for what purpose? Do you think the coastal location offers up any clue? Well I’m not going to tell. Just clock me up as another mystery of the Fife hinterland. I’m silent. You can just imagine what lies within.
Take a sheet of A4 and with a few folds you can make a paper plane. A gentle throw and off it flies. Simple as that. There was a paper mill on this land for nearly one hundred years. It was demolished and disappeared. Simple as that. Not sure why I was left behind, lying out amongst the elements like this. It’s mostly quiet now. The occasional birdsong and ambient sounds. I like to listen to the percussion of the falling rain and the whistling wind as it scoots in from the Forth. When the temperature falls, I feel my skin tighten and the frost icing over the gathered pools. Weather and time, time and weather, writing my skin in elemental alchemy.
Now playing: Sarah Davachi – ‘Flowers and Other Voiceless Things’ from Qualities of Bodies Permanent
I – Old agricultural building, Istria, Croatia
II – Entrance to the site of Caldwell’s demolished paper mill, Inverkeithing.
III – North facing railway bridge, Dunfermline
IV – On the coast between Charlestown and Crombie Point
V – On the site of the Caldwell’s demolished paper mill, Inverkeithing.