MCB and i like to take the circuitous route from main street to front. strolling round the powerhouse and window-glancing... past footsteps locked forever in the cement and across washington. we traverse the small sculpted park and under the tunnel shell. there is cozy and full of echoes even when we are silent. tied down to the bench was this ... reminder? warning?
... we took the message to heart, but left it there... as art and deserving an audience.
the next day, the tag was gone... i noticed they left the string.