Foreverware

01.01.1974, 22:00 : ‘The Texture of Time’

“When the lid seals, the walls contract and it feels warm in here. The air thickens, and I can feel the darkness smoothing itself over my body with a velvet-like touch. The coldness envelopes my body and it’s unsettling. I tighten and my body settles and is still. The walls hum, and everything smells faintly manufactured - plastic and sweet. Time doesn’t pass in here, it thickens. They say this keeps you fresh, but I think it just keeps you quiet.”

“Every brush stroke I make is sluggish in here, as though pushing through dream-like fog. The paint smells stronger, lush and mineral. I press my fingers into the pigment and it pushes back - warm, dense and breathing. Colour swells strangely in this air, but I like it. I drag a line across the surface and it sags. I prefer it when it resists. Paint sweats. It smells stronger now - oily and alive. Every gesture feels like a small disturbance in the air which isn’t meant to exist. The paint wants to wrinkle but inside this box, it stays flawless and smooth. I’m marinating in the flavour of erasure.”