80 ad-
Britannia
50.221014. -5.249153
In the soaking wilds of the western frontier, an abandoned Roman surveyor spits teeth into his palm. His body is failing him, with his mind soon to follow. His dreams grow more restless by the mile, twitching like drowned fish behind his eyes. How long until they swallow him? How long until he becomes like the land he records? How long until he becomes desolate?
Zero Meridian is an account of reason’s death throes, faced with something that does not fit within its grasp. It’s a shifting, hallucinatory journey between the bleeding horizons of exterior and interior space. Full of black dogs and cremation ash, it’s a story of colonial decay and of the sympathy between skin and soil. It speaks of the land's slow workings upon the mind, told from the lips of an all-but-dead man.
80 ad-
Britannia
50.221014. -5.249153
In the soaking wilds of the western frontier, an abandoned Roman surveyor spits teeth into his palm. His body is failing him, with his mind soon to follow. His dreams grow more restless by the mile, twitching like drowned fish behind his eyes. How long until they swallow him? How long until he becomes like the land he records? How long until he becomes desolate?
Zero Meridian is an account of reason’s death throes, faced with something that does not fit within its grasp. It’s a shifting, hallucinatory journey between the bleeding horizons of exterior and interior space. Full of black dogs and cremation ash, it’s a story of colonial decay and of the sympathy between skin and soil. It speaks of the land's slow workings upon the mind, told from the lips of an all-but-dead man.
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