I refuse to call them ruins. The place is very much alive. I have whispered and pulsated with the waves, thoughts from the celestial realm. There aren’t even parking spaces big enough for them. I am not whatever anymore. I love to hear sounds bleeding, all the crazy out there in our world. I bet a lot of birds get confused. You need an index. If you don’t have an index, you don’t know anything. It’s like an archipelago – the islands are not connected at the top, but at the bottom of the ocean.
Howie Good, 2020
Articles from hyperallergic, 6 & 7 November 2019