Hallucination in Hong Kong
- Video
- 2019
![Teaser for the video-book of Rohan Quine's novella "Hallucination in Hong Kong" - teaser 3(ii) "slumped in marijuana haze". // [...] A giant bong squats in the middle of the circle, dim-lit only by a smudgy glow that shimmers through the curtains where a whiteness burns outside. // Blood sings giddy in my head. I seem to feel the tug of each corpuscle through my veins, like grubs in a cheese. My mind begins to lurch with the dislocated glisten of a roller-coaster. Underneath, my body buzzes torpid with the judder of my heart, in annotation to the rich dark throbbing of the city through the curtains. // Next to me are headphones. Absently I don them, flick a switch and stretch out flatter. I gaze at the slow-shifting figures in the room, sealed off by the deadpan whirr of white noise, and let my eyelids sink. With a rude shock I recognise the faint ghosted opening of the music on the disc before the start of the recording - barely heard but unmistakable. It's our song! The track that means the-two-of-us to each, the one we'd always sung together, that we should have sung: that sloughs off the scab from the wound of your vanishing: that excavates your memory: makes the hole you left inside me ache and ring with lack-of-you... I feel all this again inside a fraction of a second (how slow the disc spins) - the promise of the song, thrumming faintly as it were from a far-flung chamber, seeping down the corridor like ox-blood - listen! And now before I can manoeuvre hand and arm to switch it off, my ears are hammered as the music detonates. I seem to rise on its surge and rotate into space. In counterpoise of harmony and tension I spin; can no one see? I twirl at once in both directions: clockwise on an internal axis like a spit, and anti-clockwise round an empty void where you should be. // I pull the phones off with a spasm, sweating freely and delirious, and turn the music off. I sink to the floor and breathe the calm of the room again.](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/M/MV5BZjE5ZmJkOTQtODgzZi00YWQ0LTlkNGQtMTBkMDdkOGI5MjMyXkEyXkFqcGdeQXRyYW5zY29kZS13b3JrZmxvdw@@._V1_QL75_UX1000_CR0,0,1000,563_.jpg)
Sliding from joy to nightmare and back, a plane-flight frames a journey into Jaymi's and Angel's polarised identities, triggering an obsessive fantasy of love, death and apocalyptic beauty.Sliding from joy to nightmare and back, a plane-flight frames a journey into Jaymi's and Angel's polarised identities, triggering an obsessive fantasy of love, death and apocalyptic beauty.Sliding from joy to nightmare and back, a plane-flight frames a journey into Jaymi's and Angel's polarised identities, triggering an obsessive fantasy of love, death and apocalyptic beauty.
