Seashells

[I enjoyed myself previously writing a story that started from the song ‘Glow’ by Braille Face. Braille Face spent 2015 writing an album a month, before refining the material into the August 2016 release Kōya. He’s now releasing those twelve albums, one a day via Bandcamp. So I thought I’d take a leaf out of his book and write a short piece inspired by each of his albums as they appear. I’m starting a day late. The first album in the series is called not Seashells but Sheasells.]

lanistes_ovum_shell

The rule is, quite simply, that you both have to speak without saying any words and by using the objects in the box in front of you. He is a man you haven’t met – or have you, for something about him tugs at you, as though soon you will meet him quietly standing around a corner in your memory. You are yourself, whoever that may be. The box – it is a shared box – contains

Parts of a typewriter

A jar of old dead beetles

A piece of silk

A book you loved once

A knife

An antique ribbon microphone of the kind Billie Holiday used

One white ceramic tile

Bubblewrap

Sticking-plasters

Some spoons

A mask

A smartphone

A white bone

Clean, curving sea-shells

He brings out, in order: the microphone, the smartphone, the dead beetles, the knife, the mask, the bone.

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