I like to vary my walks home to add a kind of variety that in other areas can be lacking. Sometimes I walk across the concourse and through the station’s vaults. To do so I go down an escalator, above which are pictures of food, presumably available in the shops at its bottom. They have been placed, I would guess, in an attempt to excite the taste buds and whet the appetite in readiness for the walk past the food shops that is imminent and avoidable only by doubling back.
However, every other picture is in black and white and, next to colourful neighbours only serve to give the opposite effect. The black and white food looks off to me. A tomato looks blue in my mind: putrid and inky on the inside, the olive both crisp and hard.
I travel down the escalator fearful of what I will find. Maybe mould growing across peaches like unwanted affection spreading its greasy hand upon a tender thigh?
Or perhaps meat rotting and smelling like a thousand rank farts and causing innocent patrons to evacuate their stomachs all over the floor.
Maybe even mutated and passed-it food that has become jaded and evil. Will there be an army of these blue tomatoes waiting to smother me under their mushy weight?
Of course not but the aesthetic insanity of those photographs doesn’t make me feel like purchasing any food. Instead I only want to walk on with blinkers shielding me from anything untoward.
However, every other picture is in black and white and, next to colourful neighbours only serve to give the opposite effect. The black and white food looks off to me. A tomato looks blue in my mind: putrid and inky on the inside, the olive both crisp and hard.
I travel down the escalator fearful of what I will find. Maybe mould growing across peaches like unwanted affection spreading its greasy hand upon a tender thigh?
Or perhaps meat rotting and smelling like a thousand rank farts and causing innocent patrons to evacuate their stomachs all over the floor.
Maybe even mutated and passed-it food that has become jaded and evil. Will there be an army of these blue tomatoes waiting to smother me under their mushy weight?
Of course not but the aesthetic insanity of those photographs doesn’t make me feel like purchasing any food. Instead I only want to walk on with blinkers shielding me from anything untoward.
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