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Ishiguro Kazuo, 0002005 C.E.



Hailsham, England


The album’s called Songs After Dark and it's by Judy Bridgewater. What I've got today isn't the actual cassette, the one I had back then at Hailsham, the one I lost. It's the one Tommy and I found in Norfolk years afterwards- but that's another story I'll come to later. What I want to talk about is the first tape, the one that disappeared. 

I should explain before I go any further this whole thing we had in those days about Norfolk. We kept it going for years and years-it became a sort of in joke, I suppose-and it all started from one particular lesson we had when we were pretty young.

[Never Let Me Go. Faber and Faber: London]

MB 117.6


human, 0002021 C.E.


Fossil of music cassette tape of Songs After Dark by Judy Bridgewater (featuring  Never Let Me Go)

Lost in 0001978

Found in Cromer Forest Bed Formation, Cromer, Norfolk, England, where lost things can be found 

Landscapes organise our being in the world.  Other worlds exist that are familiar to their inhabitants, just as our own is for us. Living in flat lands offer a continuity, a distant horizon that is unchanging. Although nothing can change in flat Norfolk, a lost corner of England, it provides a holding space for lost things, lost people, and the hope that these might still be found. ‘Never let me go” is a plea/demand, to hold onto and to be held. Memories are our way of holding onto everyone and everything that is lost, in doing so we forget and misremember fragments of truth. The flatness offers no hope of escape or redemption,  only a compliance in accepting the need to survive in the world we inhabit.
Living in the ruins is learning to accept the reality of living without hope of change, improvement or redemption. The fossilised music cassette is a lament to false hope. We may be able to  comfort ourselves that all that is lost to us, and all that is lost of Us, can one day be re-gained. The re-occurrence of a lost object (like this music cassette) millions of years in the future as a fossil,  is the ironic self fulfilment of the pointlessness of waiting for positive change and living for redemption.  

Norfolk,  a place where all lost things can be found,  provides an emptiness, and an illusion of comfort about reclaimed loss,  Although a place where lost things can re-found, they
can never be regained by those who have lost them. 

MB 117.6


Dean Sully

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