Bobby Sox, graphite on paper (1995) It's the first that Juniper's been this far north. Normally she watches stations that are much closer to home. Not that it’s any different back there. If it’s standing at all it's crooked and it's crooked from age, incompetence, and extreme deselection. As Juniper has come to find recently, things are just stoopid dumb. There’s glass all around her here. It's like fairies teeth were ground into the cracked concrete. Collage is brutal like this, a simple weapon that's terrible and misunderstood. There's a nearby cornice that's broken and it's parts are strewn in front of the old store. There's a stump from a steel jacketed concrete barrier with a rolled bus behind it. A brown metal bar probably from the exploded apartment across the street went straight through the side of rusted bus like a shot. Weapons framed by the everywhere that's surrounding them, every frame it's own burden of anger...