When I first landed in Glesga, the first thing I did was lie down, or at least it seemed like it. Beneath the tent of the horizon-less city. I had my cheek pressed against the pavement, from the view of any justifiably concerned passer-by, I, merely seemed to be lying down. I wasn’t, though. I was, hugging the floor.

I enjoyed it nonetheless. Then, I looked up with my film camera and thought, that I have always found streetlights strangely beautiful, overlooking the buildings. I’m sure more people would if only they took the time to look up. It was my first intimate moment being in the city; making me questioned, “are the pillars revealing the sky or does the sky extend the space between the walls?” and realized Glesga was seen even from down below, it was an amazing sight of how people being able to explore the boundary and be invited to indulge in the potentials of future histories and the timeless past of Glesga in the face of the inferno of modern civilization.

As illustrated by the prospect, city grids are being stretched towards infinity with pods of historical pasts floating and humans mingling against a backdrop of the silent and static city skyline amidst the chaos - all strangely reminiscent of the otherworldly visions.

“Turn your head up” is all they’d ever ask if they could speak, look beyond the sky and you’ll find yourself getting indulged by the richness of Glesga.