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The screams have returned.
It had been silent for a while - calm days and quiet nights delivered
barely a sound from the direction of his secluded space. It was seldom
we saw the artist himself. But of late a flurry of activity has surrounded
his mysterious presence. Vendors deliver supplies, the art dealer shows
up at odd hours and collects oversized crates. And of course the screams
and moans once again drift in and out of our consciousness. They are somehow
different this time in pitch and intonation. Haunting nonetheless.
As before, we mind our own business and listen to his work from afar.
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