These are my Artifacts, 2007
During our lives we absorb and assimilate, and all that there is to be had, just as easily, we give back, and it stands waiting to be taken in by others just like us.
Each time we are covered by the shadows of drifting clouds we can be quite certain of the likelihood that someone else will know our cloud too. We cannot posses the moment, just as much as we cannot posses the footprints we leave behind on the dew-drenched blades of grass.
On my bike route to work at 71st and somewhere near Mingo I passed, each time, some scraps of what seem to be an iron gate. This became part of my ride and part of my history; and when my son has left his pee-stained pants on the bathroom floor, or a Thomas the Tank Engine balloon that my children had been playing with, floats by me as I open the bedroom door, these too become a part of my history.