Searching for Home

I wake to the sight of a dead weight musician lying slumped on the sofa surrounded by fags, booze and Jackson Pollock fairy liquid carpet art. What struck me, as I navigated my way through the debris to go to work was the peacefulness of the mise en scene. Still and sculptural dregs offered a moments respite from the uninvited sleep deprivation.“ Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Adeline St anymore.”