On my last day, I went to visit our scrim. It was still up.
I asked one of the neighbors, who was watering her plants in that street, making a picture of me, as proof of me showing up. She was pleased to do so and to meet me, The Artist. In front of her cooking books, in her kitchen she saved the wrapper we left on the doorstep of all the houses on the day of the unveiling. Three years after. I took a picture of the wrapper in that place and of the scrim, after, again, the sunset.
