A gentle, deep blue covers the flowing length of woven, artificial fabric. Like seats, the posts support the bowing, liquid-like form of the covering. Within, the occupants wade through the dimness that shelters beneath the covering. Light seeps in through the pores of the fabric and jumps up from the ground surface where the current of fabric doesn’t meet the floor. Like dull pikes, the verticals of the interior furniture present above the waist-high datum. The smell of sweat and dusty earth are bass notes under the grass scent tenor that wafts in from outside. A deep, low vibration buzzes through our feet as a whining plane flies overhead. A faceless group rumbles by, toward a woman underlit from the light of her mobile phone.


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