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Even when you show so much you also, in the end, show so little.

The sun is fading the images as we have seen on the test pieces. But now the clouds grow bigger which will eventually diffuse the light day.

Here the arrangement creates a wall. Two sides are formed

At the night we sleep on the other side. Night as a shadow.

I grew some of the grass. It took 7 years. Whitman's grave can be seen in 1955 covered in leaves.

When it is time, plants crack out of their eggs and grow up around us. They wait to pull us by our fingers and rip our hair from the top of our heads. The insects swarm out of our skulls carryng the pollen of our toughts, as seen in the beginning.

Thought by thought we become invisible again, as seen in the end.

We don't even become ghosts. They need helicopters to fly and buildings to haunt and must be passed like a virus from mouth to mouth.

What we become must be something else.

We have begun to work in the shadowplay to be performed in the park. From here looking out I see small figures walking among trees.

I hope the grass will be dry and people can lay on it and eat and rest while they watch.

While placing the last figure, another ine broke and jumped out towards me. I was surprised. It was the tiger near the end by the cameras.

A photograph was taken of me holding it.