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Preview of an exhibition at Manchester Art Gallery 12 February - 6 June 2004

A poem written by the flight co-ordinator of an ore freighter on the Asteroid/Earth run. It describes the arrival of the freighter and its crew of one at the primitive gravity matrix, (a kind of orbital parking-lot) known in those days as the Grid. Author: Pell Merting. Year of publication: 2325.

I see his face, as he plays the double bass. I stand in line hiding behind others he doesn't know I'm there Catching glimpses that disappear...

My want goes unrequited, My desires left unheard, My voice falls on the ocean, Message lost by song-less bird. Still upon the thought of her; my body...

That annyoing thing you just can't grab

Forever and a night

she wonders who she is, really

Another page from my diary, February 01, 2004.

She loves me not...