There’s something about being outside of something, something that you live with and through but will never have full knowledge of, like the inside of your own body, which has always made me feel uneasy. Who knows what is living inside of me now – what it looks like, what shape the different parts take, where they start and end and what colour they might be? I imagine there might be dark parts, black and wet. But then I suppose all parts beneath the skin will be dark and colourless. Under there, where even the bones are wet. I’m not talking about the parts that we have a proper biological understanding of. The other bits I mean. The bits which might need investigating, but may never reveal themselves as such.

Unknowable insides haunt me. Does the fact they exist in my mind, taking the shape of unending thoughts, make them a part of me? An extra limb. It must be enough to prove their existence on an ontological level at least. They lack a proper materiality in that sense, and exist in a similar conceptual realm to how we think about the virtual (in a digital sense). A plane of reality dislocated from the material which brings it into being because that material is un-seeable, unknowable and can only be represented through speculative thoughts, words and images.