14) Nevine Mahmoud, Chantal Wnuk, John Zane Zappas

An endless wandering in an attempt to find a place to rest. Take respite here, in the shade. Dip your toes. Dine with us. Let the juice drip from lip to chin without napkin and without concern.

Our legs are weary too. The sun is strong and our shade is weak. The fruit has rotted to the core in this heat. The place we sat our butts, a seat previously firm, solid, immovable even, begins to wobble. In this new landscape our foundation is sinking. No seed, no folded up napkin, no slight shifting of weight will settle it now. It was bad soil to begin with. Sand.