|orienteering (a collaboration with writer, Martin Seay)|
In certain weather radios pick up weak signals. Conversations youíre not having.
Apologies. At sundown the rooms display their contents: viewboxes hung in the flattened
black. All depth parceled, private. And something always getting into the garbage.
What is it keeps getting into the garbage? Furry chunk of darkness, escaping on quiet feet.
(text: Martin Seay, image: 6” x 6”, etching, 2006)