TEMPERATURE: 45
WEATHER: cloudy
NUMBER of OTHER PEOPLE: 0
STEPS WALKED INSIDE THE BUILDING: 500
TOTAL TIME SPENT INSIDE INSTALLATION: 1.5 hours
Sunrise.
Golden rectangles on the scrims.
Finally warmer inside than out. Smells like rain. Phoned Died. “So you allow yourself to use your phone in here?” somebody asked me the other day.
Golden moment.
A Month Long Affair with Robert Irwin's Masterwork OR A Month of Constructing Text Message Responses.
Bruce sings the demo of Thunder Road. “There were ghosts in the eyes of the boys that you sent away.” (I realize this morning that the Irwin is definitely haunted.)
Looking back through the scrims as I pass over isn’t not like looking back on hell. Pink shade. Orange blotch. I never hear the outside but now I can. The squares of light go to yellow. Sounds of the building adjusting grow louder (in greeting? warning?). Birds--Something that sounds like a dove or a loon. But I know there aren’t any loons here. They say, “YOU’RE NOT FROM HERE.”