The office has taken down the arrow stations, lifted the plank locks and dropped the bridge, drawn. Welcome. Please take anything you can find. It is yours now. We will cooperate, freely.
We continue to hover the balancing-act of existence. It was created, it may or may not have value, but it is, and the turtle returns to its shell. Disposable or meaningful, throw away or keep forever, do whatever falls in between, maybe one or two or three or four people find and uncover a koan to be shared and captured. Even if apparitional we can feel it in our fingertips when we close our eyes. The ghost winks. And we move on.
A free label that hopes to cover various formatting ground with a desperate eye towards the digital. Where things go to die, idle, hide, or rise.