Our refurbishment. Our new offices.

Who painted the walls, the doors purple? The void. Who laid purple carpets? The void. Who made our offices so strangely vast? The void. So the void could echo. So it would hear itself, echoing. Laughing to itself. Chasing its own tail.

 

Our new offices.

Purple-carpeted. Purple-doored. Dark purple and lighter purple and very dark purple. And so vast. You’d have thought space would be a premium in a city centre campus. But it’s what the void wants: space. Space for the void to come close to the void. Space for it to consummate the relationship with itself – the void. For the void to be lost in the void.

 

And thick paint. Thick purple. Dense purple.

 

Our new offices.

This is where we’ve washed up, on purple island. Is the void purple?

This is where fate has brought us. It’s a psy-ops, all this purple.

 

Our new offices, far away from the humanities buildings. Our new offices, hidden on the top floor, above chemical engineering.

We’re unnoticed, in many ways. Maybe we could survive the closure of the humanities … Maybe this is what’s behind the chemical engineering move: someone’s trying to rescue philosophy. Someone’s helping it avoid the inevitable fate of the humanities.

We’ll hide out here, in our new offices. Masquerade as some applied ethics department. As some chemical engineering adjunct. And we can get on with our real work. With our real teaching.