This is my tenement, this small place where I can move my elbows, let my hands search for what I suspect is unsearchable, my eyes to scatter its sight among the terrain. My vision is drifting, changing with the shadows from the fading sun, transforming itself in sequence with the passing of time. I forget the images of the memories I wish I could create, the lofty and unlofty goals, the metronome of my life that I finally learned was never ticking a beat, since the beginning. I just create space, leave a vacancy for time, to exist in and through my transformations. I tend this plot of land, a place where I can be, just be.