My attorney heaves his bulky frame into the ‘stang and we ride in style, or in as much style as these goddamn cobble streets will allow. We pull up outside the PAC and decide to take the side entrance. I’m feeling the jitters and there’s a large crowd of art lovers being led round by some guy in a beard. Round the back for Easy Art Access and we enter Anthrosoluble Dispersion. There’s a friendly hippy kid with a glossy topknot saying hi and smiling us in. My paranoia is peaking so I nod and walk quickly to video screen on the wall and put on the headphones. I scan the room. There’s some kinda twisted voodoo vibe. Fetishised objects are laid out museum style in a central display. Still fresh suckpacked vacuum bagged weeds line the walls, accompanied by concrete poetry style riffs slipped in alongside. Whilst the hippy kid is chatting to some new comers, I slip a square of gutta percha from the uncovered display cabinet and place it under my tongue. Nothing happens. “This latex tab ain’t doing nothing” I mutter to my attorney, spitting the slightly soften rubber into my hand. He points to the date on the faded box of tabs “Well past it’s use by, my friend”. He pulls the little pink booklet from my back pocket, and starts incanting, rocking back and forth on his heels. The assembled crowd shoot sideways glances and the hippy kid looks up from his laptop, a frown creasing his easygoing face. Time to go.

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