I didn’t expect to spend my afternoon sitting with a light pole, but here we are. A chat about new materialism somehow turned into me, a park bench, and a very patient pole trying to see what “co-presence” feels like. No flickering lights, no mystical 'woo', just a surprising sense that the pole and I had… something. And now I’m wondering if this weird little experiment actually scales.

A rediscovered garage on a city street sent me spiralling into questions of agency and sentience. Does a building act? Can a doorway want to return? Somewhere between “mashed potato and fuck you”, I found a reminder that words shape how we meet the living world — and sometimes, how the world meets us back.