"Keep moving, I told myself, until you hit tarmac, the outer circle. The point where London loses it, gives up its ghosts."

"...But when I woke up, all I could remember was something between water and dry land, between silence and speech, between sleep and waking, and I managed to think, 'Here it is, the aesthetic of the nebulous. Here it is again...'"

"Listen to the sound through one another's skin. Preserve the sound through membrane and water, to find our form in corresponding.

Your body is a mixing board."

"The future has no future" is the wisdom of an age that, for all its appearance of perfect normalcy, has reached the level of consciousness of the first punks.

The sphere of political representation has come to a close.