I work at present in a corporate park in Westchester County, New York. I spoke with one of the maintenance men (Russian) today about the waterfall across from the building. It had been shut off. He said 'when it gets hot we lose water, the pumps burn, we have to shut down.'

 This isn't any 10% for art corporate wishing well. This is a rock and moss, tree and natural erosion, Landscape. Cut into the hillside. It could be real. If not for the 14-inch PVC pipes semi-exposed. Except for the concrete and steelgrid pumphouse worked into the rockery. And, yes. When going out for a quick smoke, and the waterfall has Stopped. One is reminded that this is a construct. But a very beautiful one.

 The waterfall spills into a large pond. Hundreds of goldfish. Mud bottom. No sad collection of pennies and dimes for wishes. Semi-organic. Sort of like human culture in 2007. A lovely effort to create something that we were already given, some millions of years ago . . . .

 So I smoke my organic cigarettes in the sun. And watch the water cascading down. Or not. And I think. Of what I've lost. Of being alive. Of how perfect it is that I work so that I can record an album. That no one will buy. It's perfect. That just when I feel, Yes I Could Make Some Art That Will Sell.....the medium I've chosen has evanesced like the last ounces of water in a canteen, with miles and miles to go on the journey. The route sandy and hot, with miles and miles to go.  ~Sans