Liminal (February)

[For Charlie Nancarrow and Robert Whalley] The wearer of this high invisibility jacket is comfortable in their own body. They enter the Liminal Club undetected, like others of this elect company. The Club recognises no national boundaries, nor does it carry address or phone numbers. It’s said members recognise one another, but high-grade intelligence on names and employment is noticeably lacking. Rumours are overturned that the Liminal Club is a sect: there are no rules, gurus, handshake convolutions, or drug-sharing. Not restricted by language, members are given to gasping and whistling at the universe any old time, Tuesday, February, whatever…