Rujak

There is a puddle, in the rain. Underneath it, superimposed into visible subscript, fish swim. There is a fag end in the top corner. Underneath the fish are replaced with flies, a bluebottle dance. Feet go by, the top corner, ripples.

Someone sweeps, a train goes by. One's eyes attempt to jump between the layers, but there is no depth - two-fold, there - this is contrast and confusion perhaps just for the sake of it.

The eyes reach but find nothing. In the programme it suggests we "question the true nature of the image". It is a made thing - perhaps there was a purpose, but even in its three minutes one grows tired of it, waiting. Suddenly there is a bicycle, all is strewn about, and there is nothing. It is rare to be grateful that something so fleeting has passed, but there it was - and there, indeed, it should remain.