The camera moves, looking for the edges of place, watches an archive of intimacies. Stories, furtive, hasty, violent, gentle, abandoned as the wind retrieves and curates the objects of the forgotten. Pizza boxes, lager cans, discarded clothing, car parts, condoms, a Chinese takeaway menu, looked at by someone, somewhere on the other side of the city, settling in for the night shift.
dominique cameron 
Oh I have been there – done those night shifts stranded manning a control room on a 3 night 12 hour shift’s weekend Friday through to Sunday on my own and it was sheer hell terror and panic – alarms going off and trying to catch what set the alarms off looking at all the monitors – trying to stay awake with coffee overloads, and answering the phone to abusive security guards moaning about shifts they were given me replying nowt to do with me – afraid of falling asleep if the duty officer catches you – you’ve had it – alarms going off through the night on monitors as the night time prowlers set them off and who are they – but a Rabbit up at the NCR factory or a Spider crawling across the camera lens up at Nigg Bay keeping me on my feet and from drifting off all night long and then the hair stands up on the back of my neck and I scream out with fright as I see a figure coming towards the camera at Nigg Bay which is cloaked and it hovers up to the lens revealing a ghostly skull looking back at me laughing and coming through the lens to get me – it was then the alarm clock went off – realising was that a dream or something else getting dressed for the three night shift ahead in the control room on my own š® šµ š±
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