Apeiron Review | Issue 6

Page 11

Tom Holmes

After Hours with Orange Here is the defense against the negative forces of denial and death. Here in the city of taverns, dance clubs, and after-hour sex parlors. Here, in the night, with the presence of other and uncanny. And everyone who is exposed to or immersed in its early hours is tinged with mimetic failure. Here is the spectacle, the pleasure dome. Here, the debutants of the night forge wooden masks and iron umbrellas to hide their grotesque origins. There are no class differences here, no towers, no debt, no normal. Whoever enters its subterranean becomes a joke, so every entity is dispossessed of its threat. At its core, Orange germinates purity and the ancient— the seeds of rebellion. At its core, Orange is metaphysical and real as a belly, empty or full. Here is where the debutants may carry oils and paint sleep with fingers.

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