Foreverware : Diary Entry 2 (Plastic Nostalgia)

“The air has thickened in here and it’s heavy now. It presses back into my face when I breathe. It used to be fresh, but as the container warms, it turns musky. Moisture drops are beginning to form on the surface of my skin. What was once fresh now smells damp and sweet, trapped and working its way into everything to try to escape this dimension. The air feels so dense, it’s pulsating against my body. Everything sounds muffled. There isn’t much room to move after all. ”

“The paint reacts oddly in here - luminous and swollen. When I move my fingers through it, it moves slowly and it holds its shape longer than usual. Colour looks wet and luminous. The pigment clings; it’s dense. plump and warm. When I move it, it slithers and slumps back into itself and refuses to dry. When I smear it, every mark lingers, leaving traces of my interaction. The surface remembers everything, yet the environment is attempting to preserve past any usefulness.

I think this ritual started as vanity, but now it feels closer to worship. I am offering myself up - but to whom ?”