top of page

Inflatable Dreamland, A Performed Paper; A Digital Exhibition. 


 Presentation, Digital Photography, Writing, AI Image Generation, 2023


A Prayer;

Gold Foil Inflatable Dreamland 

Inflatable fantasy 


Inflatable Dreamland 


Deadlift Dictatorship 


Collective Fever Dream 


Stupidity Palace


Double Fantasy 


Creatine Dreams 


The Promised Land 


Gold Foil Inflatable Promised Land 


Give me


My Inflatable Promised Land Dreams


My Violent Cartoon Future 


Chapter I

Origin Story


The darkness hums. 

It buzzes gently, 


the carpet breathes. The streetlight outside 

splits the blinds silently. 

Stripes of artificial light somehow make the darkness more dark. 

The shadows smile 

in the damp cold corners of the room. 


The nighttime. 


Daylight. Today is lead lined, scratchy throated, wool in the skull. Low sunlight, the hum of a vending machine, the absence of any kind of human interaction. Peripheral chatter, through frosted glass. A world full of enemies. Profound loneliness. Deeply uncomfortable.

Nighttime. Again. 

Sometimes            the quiet goes

Through me like a knife 


Suddenly I’m confronted with your absence


The silence drives that home 


The sharpest moment of clarity 


Those seconds last for hours 


Don’t move. Get up.


Get up.



The fear creeps in, like the 

Road noise and the chatter and the 

Banging of pans from the other room.

So much space between the earth 

And the sky, empty cold air, 

No darkness to nestle 


No you.

These moments are the hardest, the Cold cold light of day

I might die here in bed. Waiting. Hiding. Some kind of death; a quiet disappearance. A gentle withdrawal from everything and everyone. A crumpled stained quilt, golden light licks the black mould on the windowsill. Another day down. Another day, down. 


I hope you never see this.

Nighttime again.


Daytime again.


The nighttime.


The daytime.


Again and again. 



Im not entirely sure I’m here anymore. Admittedly the absence of that initial screaming, paralysing grief is welcome, but with it went any proximity to feelings of any kind. I have not smiled for weeks, not laughed for months. I can cry silently whilst googling the weather or commute without watching the road. I can be upstairs without knowing how I got there. I can walk to the newsagents and buy a sandwich in total silence. I can check in on my life now and again, brief observation from the viewing platform, but I can’t tell you where I am the rest of the time. 


I won’t.