I tripped the light fantastic along Wood Street, bathing in the Fantasia of its apparent regeneration by means of up lit trees, disco pavements and flourescently adorned lamp posts. In the midst of all the dendro-illumination I half expected the paving stones to light up beneath every step and with this thrilling experience, reformed zombies to emerge from the dark recesses to dance in an imaculate formation worthy of a Nowhere's Got Talent competition winner. I could hear the grunts, moans and scowls of the darknesses seeking refuge in their stygian niches, nooks and crannies; the ominously close and less prettified zones of this neurophysiological experiment. Might there be new shadows formed by the apparatus of psycho-retinal stimulation? I was just a small presence on the street and I wondered, despite or as a result of the superficial fizz and crackle of my excited dendrites, what the decoration will do to revive the area commercially and culturally. I decided to participate in the festivities, taking out my camera to flash the trees, berries and high flying shredded detritus, and so contribute a little to the immersive spectacle, before retreating to the decidedly more dull and pedestrian ways of Lost and Found in E17's dashboard.