C.J. Allen sets out in the ramshackle glass-bottomed boat; Patricia Farrell turns up, pins back his ears and waits; the bells of Daniel Tiffany filter all signals from outside; Hillary Lyon believes in the strange harvest of shifting wavelengths; Martin Stannard takes home a concoction of donkey skin and ginger to invigorate his infrastructure; the sheen of the duvet has an odd smell for Julie Maclean; next door to Nikolai Duffy, husband and wife spit out of spite; Mark Young leaves parts of himself – his wig, his face – on the table; SJ Fowler knows the north doesn't forget why it sailed; and Robert Sheppard watches freedom toss her garland into the stormy sky.