Squeezing into a space between two walls,
shimming sideways I become shrink-wrapped in cobwebs, a cocooned figure dusted
with pulverized plaster raining down from above. Deeper still I notice an
opening in the wall space ahead, a hard lean and push and I’m in a clothing
rack at a shopping mall. Stepping from the hanging clothes I’m surrounded by
bustling customers and blinded by bright halogen lights. Recoiling at the
hordes of people and the normalcy of the surroundings I venture back into the
clothing rack. This time there is no wall space, rather a vast defunct nuclear
power plant perched on a polluted shoreline, where silvery water laps against
soot-colored sand.
