This is a reading of a piece I wrote on reflection of an old space I used to occupy. A space that to me, never completely fulfilled its purpose. A single victorian studio room with a large bay window to a sea view, aged, neglected, and passed on from person to person down a vast timeline. I was only there 6 months, not long enough to truly call it home.
I wrote the piece on the final day of the tenancy, when all my things had already been moved out, and I had a moment to be alone with what was left. I later contemplated the role of a tenancy like mine to be like that of a collaboration; except this was a collaboration that required all trace of the participants to be erased at the end. The less marks remaining of the involvement, the more successful the collaboration is. Like a live performance with no trace left except what was heard in the moment and what lasted in memory.