A pile of what looks to be thin strips of dark metal seems to writhe on a tabletop. On closer inspection this greasy-looking tangle is revealed to be rolls of till receipt paper, carefully redacted on both sides with ballpoint pen. It’s a chaotic and unruly assemblage.

This is a remnant of many hours of pointless labour. What does this extreme feat of concealment hide? Is it evidence of some shameful spending spree or an accumulation of overspending and debt built up over time? It’s strange that something so light and ephemeral seems to carry a heavy debt of shame.