April 28th. 2009

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Roper holds a rope – an old shoelace – his hand is a foot of a water coot, the only thing left by a coyote at  the Quail Lake. His head is the remainder of a stray cat, one of the tree siblings who had a very short live. The fourth kitten got adopted. Mother cat was hit by a 16-wheeler.

His ears are formed by a neck bone, maybe from a rabbit? His shoulder protection gear is from a toy dragon, as is his left hand. His body filled with nesting material covered by a shell of a bitter gourd.  He is walking down an old welding helmet, lit by the light coming through the blue helmet, the window covered in dust which falls from the ceiling in the shop here.  In the winter the roof leaks, it makes the surface crumbly. In the beginning of the summer when the concrete shrinks it snows a bit in there.  A cave swallow is perched against the side, she used to live in her apartment underneath the roof, part of a big neighborhood.  I gave her the Horn House but as soon as Roper entered the space, she flew up.  A wiggly snake winds deeper into the space.