PHOTO ESSAY
You can’t go wrong here.
Words by Peter Evans & photos by Peter Evans
There are more of them now. You are more common. We walk straight past.
Easier to hide the dust, guts, blood, wires, cables and noise that make them what
they are. That make us what we are.
Everything’s fine.
You will be happy living here. No one can see inside. No churning of your
stomach like the unseen excavation taking place on the other side. It doesn’t
happen here. It won’t happen to you here.
A breath of fresh pixelated air.
The slick high walls, a vertical moat protecting the fairytale land
your castle and its palm-held King’s hand.
You see the tip of the crane, the head of the beast.
But behind the perfect hoarding the guts, the noise, the well that supplies your
tears.
Electronically protected fears.
They are telling me life is good. A walk to the shops a day keeps the doctor away.
Lose track of your subscriptions. As Renton said ‘Choose life’ and history repeats
itself as we swipe to choose a partner. Optimised for a larger format.
Pizza Union, Roast Bean Co., Burger Heaven, The Village Deli. There’s no one
eating alone. No one is alone here.
It will be good. It will work out for me here. Here, behind the hoarding with its
promise of life, stopping and chatting with my neighbour. Eating an ice-cream on
a Sunday. Walking hand-in-hand. A phone call. The sun is always shining.
The glances won’t be stolen and returned over illuminated shields
The floor won’t change for sitting on
And the sun won’t hide behind the dark and brooding hoardings in the sky
Because this is stock life
You can’t go wrong here.