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  • JOURNAL ENTRY 1: 23-03-25

    And all in a blur, it started where it ended. We closed the page and would begin to read backwards whilst living the story forwards in time. And as they all lived happily ever after, an expanse of green grass welcomed us with open arms into a journey we had paused to begin. Although most of what we could see was almost entirely green, there was no definition of time and place, and the world around us began to imagine reality just as much as we did.

    Almost all of a sudden we became immersed in the life living deeply within the “Objects” which stood beside us, as our minds embodied a feeling more profound than reason; a spontaneous intensity of vivid colours gathered around us—a swirling sense of possibility far greater than any logical structure we could touch. 

    All of our senses were heightened as far up as the tallest skyscraper; we looked out from the top floor as panels of glass framed the most glorious panorama of man-made ingenuity. 

    We saw “tiny people” walking through the pathways below and we imagined flying through their minds in a paper aeroplane, as our own duplication sprung into life in the simulation that played on slowly and steadily before us. 

    The same trails we passed by were imprinted on the intricate lines of our palms, and suddenly we thought “how did life become so good?” A wooden cube sat in our hands and as our garden shed began to fade, the weather threw a beam of light over a fence covered in flourishing grass, always greener and it certainly was, but a pair of sunglasses helped shade the space where practicality was unearthed. A friendly garden of wildflowers delicately waved to us as we held the empty box of seeds in our hands. 

    Placing the box on the ground we gathered sand from the desert as the smell of fresh tarmac parked nostalgia into a space of unexpected territory. How could we possibly combine multiple illogical scenes into one image, framed on all sides, the completion of a perfect story weaved into infinite sensibility and an overwhelmingly delightful discovery of heightened sensitivity. 

    There was hope, there was happiness, there was deep thought where simplicity played along, and ahead we could see an extraordinary panorama and a spectacular perspective of life gently smiling before us.

    This was life’s explanation of its own intricacies passing through the sky, as a tiny raindrop settled on the tiny head of a pigeon. The pigeon sat on a concrete surface held in place by gravity and all that would fall would be brought back to the sky through a flying device with wings that can glide.

    The pigeon sat above the top floor of the skyscraper and watched us staring forever at the “tiny people” walking through the pathways below and imagined flying through our mind in a paper aeroplane, as its duplication sprung into life in the simulation that played on slowly and steadily before us all.

  • JOURNAL ENTRY 2: 04-04-25

    We see a face ahead, illuminated - sitting at the top of a building that stands with great presence before us. We would always dream of this place, whether it be in this world or in the realms of our immaterial playgrounds - it was just colourful enough, everything we could see was perfectly placed, things were situated at the right angle and they even said the “Objects” which were silent, were happy. 

    A flash of light captures the panorama of a basketball court. The net was very high up - we couldn’t touch it, but that was the good thing about it. 

    Suddenly, we are standing dressed as a Clown, we are juggling, laughing and doing just as a Clown would do. 

    A friendly Hippopotamus smiles at us. We like Hippopotamuses. The Hippo can see a Duck on a pond in England eating sliced white bread and we can see a Dolphin in the desert looking for the Hippo. Yet there was no real confusion around such absurdities, and through an internal transportation unit, (a click of the finger you might say), we arrived back to concrete land. 

    We walked a few footsteps forward, noticed a familiar person and touched them on the shoulder. They looked at us, no reaction to our return, and there was no return after all, we were stood in the same spot as the last unquantifiable measure of time. 

    We waited for the ice cream van, the gentle musical tone became louder as it gradually stopped on the side of the road. Chimps, Donkeys and Humans stood up from the curb and formed an orderly queue. The wait was short, yet the ice cream melted before our anticipation had faded, and somehow the excitement of immaturity never left the circus of the mind, in the mind of the silent scenes of all sense of surreality. 

  • Journal Entry 3: 20-06-25

    A small plant pot stands in our view. It is motionless. It hasn’t moved since it was placed there, many months ago. It is patient—like a patient dog that waits, and waits, and waits.

    The dog was told they hadn’t been waiting at all—they had simply been anticipating something very, very exciting.

    I looked at the dog and shook their paw. A perfect greeting. We were in agreement that the skyscraper before us was far too tall. We walked closer, but the closer we came, the taller it seemed to grow.

    It was a warm day, and the pavement beneath our feet was hot.

    The dog sat down. I sat beside them.

    A fly jumped over a crack in the pavement and arrived where we sat. The fly could fly, but it watched—yet the dog just sat. The dog was in deep thought. A spiral of colours moved through their eyes. The dog smiled and shook hands with the fly.

    The fly then flew away.

    We decided to guess where the fly had gone. We couldn’t see it, but we imagined its whereabouts—perhaps more vividly than the fly itself could. The fly was preoccupied imagining where it wasn’t. It hovered endlessly and was never truly where it was.

    All of our thoughts were transported to another place—one neither we, nor the fly, had ever been.

    Within a blink, we were surrounded by a metropolitan area, filled with commercial buildings.

    We noticed something in a shop window: a small plant pot. Motionless.

    It didn’t look like it had moved since it was placed there, many hours ago. 

    There was an aura around the object—a presence that remained perfectly still within its physical context. Many ideas moved around the staticity of a familiar sense of constant. A constant that brought us in-line with real time.

    The glass window was spotless, perfectly polished. The signage above was most spectacular and very familiar. We recognised the individual letters, but not the word when all letters gathered.

    It began to get dark, and the sun disappeared—along with the fly.

    Next, the dog vanished. And finally, we all looked out from the top floor of the skyscraper that had become so tall, it had swallowed us whole. We were immersed in our own fantasies. 

    All suspense sat as quietly as the plant pot, which hadn’t moved since it was placed there, many seconds go. 

    We were truly astonished to see where the toy’s still flying—to see the worlds of the fleeing, flying fly, that happened to move quietly, and without us even noticing, still, they hovered in the place they flew, many seconds ago.

  • Journal Entry 4: 07-09-25

    There is motion and movement until there is a pause that makes us stop, and as our movements stop, our mind gains momentum, our thinking becomes a thought paused and somehow remembered, almost within the memory of a cinematic glow, bursting into life.

    We look at different colours and shapes and they remind us of each time we pause to capture in our mind what feels most significant to us, as information stored for many, many years is brought back to the surface, yet the trigger remains hidden from view.

    Sometimes, the things we cannot see are the most powerful things, like the roots of a tree—the tiniest components that propel us, and hidden from view are maybe the most integral elements to the story that we are yet to see unravel right in front of our eyes, like a flower bursting into life, all of a sudden.

    With such immense surprise we see ourselves immersed in a world that is immersed in the idea, and wholly immersed in the house of the object itself.

    And this is what really fascinates us—the hidden depth of a world we cannot see, we can only guess the story, and the profound feelings of possibility living within. And all of a sudden we jump inside—a playground, seemingly so much deeper and so much more complex than the surface of the object we see, touch and quietly observe. All at once, we see numbers and letters flying above skyscrapers and bubbles being blown towards towering entrances to colourful new worlds.

    A bubble lands on our hand. The bubble pops and the many reflections and memories burst into the sky as a colourful story leads us into a universe that is so wonderful, so spectacular, so breathtaking… It brings us to tears. In the teardrops that navigate our subtle smile, there is motion and movement, until there is a pause that makes us stop, and as our movements stop, our mind gains momentum, our thinking becomes a thought paused and somehow we remember with such profound intensity, how magnificent creation and imagination truly is.

    We press our hand palm-down and wait for another bubble to land, as we feel gravity moving life’s energy towards us in a magical realisation of consciousness and a sudden overwhelm of wonder.

UOWCIII, 4th Floor, Silverstream House, 45 Fitzroy Street, Fitzrovia, London, W1T 6EB


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