Jerusalem

In the half a square mile of decay and demolition that was England's Saxon capital, eternity is loitering between the firetrap tower blocks. Embedded in the grubby amber of the district's narrative among its saints, kings, prostitutes, and derelicts a different kind of human time is happening. An opulent mythology for those without a pot to p*ss in, through the labyrinthine streets and pages of JERUSALEM tread ghosts that sing of wealth and poverty; of Africa, and hymns, and our threadbare millennium. They discuss English as a visionary language from John Bunyan to James Joyce, hold forth on the illusion of mortality post-Einstein and insist upon the meanest slum as Blake's eternal holy city. Fierce in its imagining and stupefying in its scope, JERUSALEM is the tale of everything, told from a vanished gutter.