«NEVER ASK DIRECTIONS FROM SOMEONE WHO KNOWS THE WAY. YOU RISK NOT GETTING LOST«

​​Down in the depths of our faithful hearts, a city was carved. The walls etched into the wet sides of the Thalamus, the floor paved along the twisting Cerebel plain.


Stirring from the internal echoes, the morning's consciousness threw the blankets from our beds. Breathless, we rose together.


Roaming, we sought the subtler realms of deep image, song beats and colour theory. Waiting forever, suspended in time.


We slowly counted to zero.


Our chests thudded with the shadows flickering on the ceiling. It was then we crossed the Malleus Bone Bridge, to the city we’d chosen. The city to get lost in. 

We will meet you there.