About the work

That string, still connected to nothing, has been there for days. I watched it from the window of the café across the street, a few blocks from here, as the leaves first started to turn. It appeared one morning, a sudden vertical interruption. Perhaps it was a child, trying to fly their new kite against the odds of this particular street, this particular wind. Or maybe it was an adult, remembering a simpler time, launching it into the impossible space above the traffic. What surprised me was how long it stayed, a quiet testament to a singular, futile attempt.