NEW BUILD
—Impressions Rousseauean and beamed from heaven, platonic faint shadows of deranged giants, there go I, flickering and half formed images of the to-be. Here on the cresting rise where already we phase the green way to Gloucester we can see new worlds forming the ever-estate of gormless autocrats, insurance workers and plumbers, filling all the great valley all the way between Bristol and Gloucester. Yes yes, we see it rise in the historical peripheral of the mind’s eye, falling to future app developers building nothing on the fundamentals and yes we select few see the faux-period constructions appear from the earth with the passing of the hours and the words of authori-ty…watching the clock, which now is permanently marred on the mind, reft from their essential rhythms and lost in the endless low builds with no sense of a history at all…a final skipping stone cast to the void…—God, ’s me, and what was once the industrial estate is now; daycare; a gin bar; a gym attached to some cult-like workout routine; a vegan cafe, a veritable alternate high street and the regular high street is dead; and they came when they were all built; all of them foreign; all of them richer and they bought the lot; became our new lords and masters; and here comes the rain and where the fuck should I live and where will I shelter for the night; we’ve no place to call our own.
