By | 1 October 2020
I ask Wan Ching how she is. Are you lonely? At home on whatever-floor. She replies, I have had mysterious droppings on my floor for some time. Her brother-in-law sends pictures to a biologist friend. Apparently, the droppings of a bat. Never seen the animal, Wan Ching writes. Just been cleaning up its mess. Log on HDB fengshui forums: wi-fi geomancers tell us, time to buy 4D. We know we’re lucky upside-down. In sleep I never dream of wings, but flap into the night the same; depending on the angle. Actually – isn’t a bat technically always the right side up? For what it needs to do, I mean. I’m not a gambling person, but one of my worst fears is being a vector, and never realising what I’ve done. An essay on viral dramaturgy lurks in my browser history, though I’m not sure if I ever plan to read it. I’m a scientific person, too. I’m quite sure no one ate the bat; just happen to fly by. Echolocation doesn’t work if nothing’s there in front of you. I don’t compare advice; no point wondering what to think. I just enjoy the luck – and not so lonely, either. Wan Ching’s yet to see her guest. Finally, I type: do you think maybe the bat is a metaphor? She says, the bat might be, but the shit is real.

This entry was posted in 97 & 98: PROPAGANDA and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Related work:

Comments are closed.