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Archie Mcgill 2014


Descriptive 5


Nightfall like Gravity, beckoning down on the disciples below. Encouraging the second personalities to emerge and first degree Vampires to request their homecoming. A century long exhibition illuminates the pathways of the many. Multi-level brawls will ensue above the tombstone of those who disobeyed. The ego of the true love can inflate expediently when influenced by spirits. Thumping of waves against of concrete beach cause the participants to remove their bodies from reality and come back in someone else’s. The time will always fly in first class with a glass of champagne by its side and will always land without a delay.

Descriptive 4


The sound of hushed whispers mixed with unplanned scribbling, the dictator looks over its minions. The thought of freedom swirls through the air between the absent minds, the intensifying glow of anticipation for the relief. Watering mouths are about, some waiting for enlightenment and some lingering on the explicit. They sit staring at the void of emptiness before them wondering why everyone around them can do better. The communist street wear in the back, the embodiment of your dreams across from you and the gifted lead at the front. The noise comes from above, the familiar notion of departure. The uproar comes, untamed adolescents rush towards their goal like bats leaving from the dark of their cave. The escape, the capsizing of a ship, the tsunami of skin collapses through the carefully crafted mould. Arise in a memory, only now does the realization dawn upon the world.

Descriptive 6


A criminal not by law but by family, an accidental but planned departure from a plagued island. Dead to one and uninterested by another, how come you repair pay cheques and not your household? Your emotion is not nature but is read and applied in unrealistic actions. How can you parade through a life with your head held high and not smell the deadly gas you left behind? Maybe it’s just the naivety of a teenage delinquent promised a perfect youth but how could that be possible with one but the other. Now you reside a thousand miles away and leave a disenchanted adolescent to play catch by himself.

Descriptive 1


The cold steel pylons held up the monolith of Modern architecture, the brutal winds lashed down upon the roof. The smell of diesel fumes riddled the air creating an unsettling thickness to the air.  The people commuting to jobs they despise, they sit there disconnected to the world around by devices they don’t need. Occasionally looking up to escape, to go from point A to point B; the same thing every day. The refreshing air of tunnels carved through the earth, all manifesting to this place. The nooses tied around their necks flap in the gust, the familiar sound of hydraulic doors sliding open, the rushing of bodies and now, finally the prisoner has escaped.

Descriptive 2


And this is how it starts, expenditure of emotion in fits of movement. The untamed explicitness of the curious, adrenaline is the crusade and the reward shall come. Mindsets that of the inexperienced to protect what is yours and only show your best, being told no only makes it better.  The escape from a suffocating second skin is apparent; the fanatical rush of extremities dancing around what is not theirs. Contraband litters the air, creating a distraction of the exhibition that is happening below. The committed signal for the bill while disappointed in their actions. Now hushed and erratic movements rewind the tape. The illusion has been shattered and the participants now hunger for more.

Descriptive 3


Exaggerated by you and I, standing on the edge of a porcelain basin waiting for one of us to slip under pressure. You were the kind of girl people write books about and now the one people write eulogies about. We were like two mirrors faced towards each other, now shattered and only causing pain. Cigarettes looked so harmless but then again so did you; now please just kick me off the cliff just so I can feel your touch. I found this song that reminds me of you and I drown myself in it at every apparent second. Emotion is white until given a reaction, and you, you were my reaction.

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