i write utopia.
i spend most of my time reading, thinking, dreaming utopia and a lot of time agonising over how to express it all in words of my own. there’s usually a lot of blank space and silence involved. but i’ve found that it’s often the gaps and silences that bring multiple possibilities to life through fissures of meaning within & between the words. utopia’s an elusive landscape: crumbling to dust with every fence that’s built up around it or map that tries too precisely to locate it. it may be the perfect place, or no-place [utopia = ‘no place’; eutopia = perfect place] – the faultline lies within its etymological roots.