eclipse Posted April 20, 2017 Share Posted April 20, 2017 Life below the water is drawn towards the suns reflection refusing to drown, waves are like the disparate pages of the city's history unable to create a seam, winds carry the skeleton of a dream towards a tree that grows eyes instead of leaves inside the mind of Lillian Biloca, enough eyes to see through the holes in the nets of fisherman, gathered to form a singular vision; working class forever drowning, bourgeoisie forever climbing. Lillian can hear the waters in a photograph sing for three sunken trawlers, their voices trapped, she ripped up the paradigm and raised them from the sea bed into a photograph. Lillian sailed with the moon and held it's anchor, the night made her captain, she then sailed the sun through Hessle road taking the residents into history to record the ascent on Parliament. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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