The Wall That Agreed to Be a Screen

Questions I asked the quarry wall, in roughly the order I asked them:

Can you hold an image a hundred metres wide? (Yes.)

Will you hold it still? (No. You’re wet in places, and the ferns move.)

Who cut you open, and what did they take? (Stone. For roads. Probably the road I drove in on.)

Is it rude to make you beautiful for one night after all that? (Still thinking about this one.)

I’ve come to think of a quarry as a wound that learned to hold water. Testing on it is humbling. You stand at the bottom at dusk and your voice comes back a fraction late, like the rock is deciding whether to agree with you.

About five thousand people came and sat on the grass and looked up at the inside of a mountain. The rock didnt notice. The frogs did.

From the project: Water and Light