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locked from the inside

locked from the inside - Portside Power Plant*
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It seemed to him that there must be something meaningful out there. For all the places he looked, there were only more barren rooms full of pollution and decay, and yet he knew that there must be more. Maybe it was the peace of his own destruction that he sought, maybe it was a divine revelation that would give him purpose and fulfillment. There was magic left somewhere in the universe and in places like these the veil seemed thin, as though he might open a door and find himself bathed in a radiance that would answer all his questions and silence whatever it was that drove him to push harder and harder and harder, burning himself away in the process. He could ascend to the top of every ladder, search every basement, and yet there was still nothing. In the darkest corners there was only more darkness, and in the soft sunlight there was only a restlessness that made him ache. It was as though no matter where he was, it was never the right place - as though he existed a little ahead of, or behind, the time he was meant for, and he was beginning to feel the trail of breadcrumbs he was following didn't lead anywhere at all, that even if he did find some sort of catalyst it would be too late because there was no love left in his heart.
Maybe the universe had turned her back on him. While he could catch glimpses of the celestial machinery throbbing somewhere beneath the surface of his perceptions, it was never quite visible. There was always one more catwalk to climb, always one more door to open. He was almost certain by this point that wherever the answer was, it was sealed away forever in some place locked from the inside.
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Portside Power Plant (a pseudonym), 2006. Photograph and text by Matthew Christopher of Abandoned America


Also in: Portside Power Plant*

a certain kind of emptiness
echoes from the life behind
rendered drab by the shadows of time
of forms assembled in the light
counterpoint to our fundamental failures
a symbol for the century
the trail of the past
in things continually vanishing
hard to say
what i wanted