About the work

One of them will leave first, and then the other two. It will happen quickly. The stones are for someone, or a ritual, or a memory, but they’re also just stones, worn smooth by a current they remember more than the men do. Each jacket, stiff and unyielding, still holds the shape of the hanger it came on, and the shoes are so new they squeak with every shift of weight. They have been given something, these men, something they didn’t ask for, something they don't quite know what to do with.