After returning from Indonesia, I found a short term research job with the Unit of Disaster Management, an obscure research unit located in offices outside of Waterloo. On a nine month contract, my duties were low level and banal, but gradually, as my work became appreciated and deadlines loomed, I moved onto more important projects. Proofreading and editing reports on anything from Islamist terrorist cells to coastal erosion in East Anglia, I was required to sign the official secrets act, a bond which, although I’m not sure how, I may now be breaking.
. . . Ronald Reagan blowing a kiss. A young girl photographing a bathing flamingo. A vandalised payphone in the Mojave desert. An index of enzymes. Reykjavik under snow. A squashed slice of lemon on wet tarmac. An ostrich farm in British Columbia. . .
Published in Black Static 71