Vybal Studies: Will had to go back to the midwest. Nothing else could be done about it, so down the vein he went. Walking for miles, from the airport to the taxi rank. A big car drove by along the grey concrete of the pedestrianised field. Black car, big, sun on the bulges. "hey". "hey".	It foggy. Thick and banded. Will lost his luggage somewhere but there are more important things now. Everything is wet outside the shopping centre, sliding around hours before opening. Moaning from the roof of the carpark.	This isn't the first bowel rodeo. Not for anyone here. The lights are bright and the furnishing are like those in a church meeting room or the sort of business you would never feel comfortable telling people who worked at. Its so bright you can see everything in the carpet. The photo on the wall is of a lady putting on leopard print rubber gloves, twang. she's looking away form the camera. underneath is a box of leaflets, medical looking logos you cant read from here. The text on the image is faded through blue into nothing from the light. Dusty windows doing nothing to stop the sun.	It is all hard work. That's the last thing you remember Will telling you. There's not much more to it. Are you going to get the job? You filled in all of the drop down boxes, you remember doing that, you remember joking about how this was maybe the work, but you were not sure whether this was a test of how much you could do, how much you could stand, or how much self respect you had. Thinking about that you were no longer sure if you had completed the banks of drop down boxes, or if you had even submitted it for consideration. You had done some hard work though, in that Will as always was correct. Time to wake up then. You say this out loud a couple of times, before fumbling toward the kettle and complimentary nescafe sachet, already damp with dew.	Time to go to Church Ma/ Time to go to Church/ Time to go to Church Ma/ Time to go to Church/ Time to pay the bills Ma/ Time to ease the hurt/ Come and hold the light Ma/ Let's see what ya worth/ The ladies at the market, the ladies on the wall/ Keeping all the prices in the pockets of they shawl/ Open up the windows, open up the vein/ Throw the crying parson on out into the rain/	It is windy. My god, it is really windy. Black mass windy, put out the sun windy. Not even cold, kind of balmy, but blowy. Like everything wants to touch you on the one side and everything you down seems to be the other way. Will has gone off somewhere inside, maybe in the garage, you didn't see because you were staring off at that field of some grain or something, some animal feed crop. The wind putting a palm to the heads of each stalk and laying them down without acknowledging any resistance. This church is huge, and Will has gone off somewhere and in this wind everything feels like it is hanging out. A real lack of induction and instruction seems to have marked this project. You don't feel at all anxious though, the wind dominating, the white noises in your ears, the pressure, feeling anxious seems redundant as there's no agency to be wielded. Here in the bowels, no visa for anywhere else but these bowels. Waiting for church.	All three of us get in the car, sitting around the driver. They smile and we try to smile back as the backs of legs stick to tacky leather while trying to slide over. The car is big and bulges in the same way inside as out, reflecting the sun and just as hot. The vent does nothing and the engine idles. We aren't late so I imagine the driver is making a point, showing off the car, the power of it, or both. I'm in the front seat, you're in the back with Will. He looks tired. I can't see your face because you're right behind me, but I can feel your knees as you look for the seatbelt. Its starts to rain and i put my arm out.	Everything feels easy compared to the interview. The position comes with housing. The food isn't bad and there's more of it than any of us could want. There's a chill every now and again like air conditioning but we're outside again and it doesn't feel like there is wind. We've been taking the medicine for three weeks now to aclimatise, and been doing the exercises when it didn't interfere too much with everything else. Off on the horizon there's smoke. It doesn't worry anyone when I point it out. Here in the flat land of agriculture, the horizon is a long way off. When the car disappeared it might have never existed.	Wading out into the field you lay down with the others. The light is turning blue and that flattens everything while bringing it either closer, or rubbing it out.