Offloading machine gun fire into a manhole cover. Microphone damaged by bullet deflection. Screams from adjacent cells, echoing in through the air vent grill. Three minutes and I blackout.
2:05. A feedback tone spills outward to encompass the frame. Like liquid gold poured upon fractured concrete – the only smooth and colourful presence amidst this three minutes of judder and grey. A painful relief of sorts, just as a needle injection brings a salvational pain to a body that has been pummelled numb. 25 seconds later, it’s gone. The jackhammer rhythms return.