In my room

Today I spent an hour trying to remember my childhood bedroom. It's about 14 years ago that I last saw it and in that time I have rarely given it much thought. The odd reminisce regarding a poster I had or a game I played with my brother. Today I remembered it as it was when I left it.

It hadn't changed a bit. Richard Davalos looked out from The Smiths Strangeways and Elvis with dopey eyes from Shoplifters. Anti-facist and gay rights, potted plants and ferns growing out of an old shop till, poorly drawn sketches and the old ripped swivel chair that dad brought back form his office that stank of cigarettes. A single bed with Habitat enthnic print and clumsy funiture painted numerous layers of gloss untill all contours and detail were blurred and dripping. It was a typical teen angst, lazy with love and easily forgotten life in that room - but I have carried it with me all these years not knowing that it lingered on as a persistent series of images and feelings.

How happy to inhabit an old memory and re-explore a surface that no longer exists, however superficial.