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Last year I visited Glasgow for some work/research stuff relating to creative hubs. At the time, I began writing a thought-piece on urban wandering. It never quite got anywhere until I spent one insomniac madrugada typing whatever the hell my brain came up with. The result was satisfying: a stream-of-consciousness piece, that, instead of a full-blown article, became bite-sized ponderings. This is the first one of the lot. They will be published ever Wednesday until they are done.

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Glasgow of Many Stories #1: "it is a ∞ lying down and having a fit"

Glasgow is grimy; it is sooth-stains marred against attention-grabbing plastic; it is post-industrial abandonment displayed as old red stone crumbling. I hear it is flames dancing in art schools and I saw traffic cone crowns for historical characters astride brass horses. The city has a hole

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