Grim Town. It’s unclear exactly what or where it is but it’s grey, flat and small in both size and significance. It’s a concrete slab on a cul-de-sac that leads to nowhere. It’s a restlessness that rocks back and forth, back and forth. It’s the suffering that starts in the corner of your mind or in the crease of your forehead and ends with total loss of identity and control. It’s the grim realisation that you are not who you thought you were, and that the only way you can face your most excruciating fears is through an unforgiving, unadulterated pop song. ‘You are now entering the southbound train to Grim Town. Please surrender any faith, passportation or optimism to platform staff if you haven’t already. Refreshments will not be available on this service. Thank you and enjoy your journey.’
All aboard.
