A place nudged into the crook of an eye. In there a watchtower moves as a viewer. An elevated ridge gaze. But that is not its true nature. To burn a hole through stone is what it really does. “This place holds no predictions about the future.Yet the resoluteness of a universe in stagnation might cease to unfold just like this.A place rather unstuck in time.Still, it’s a moving breathing place.Soft and slow.In a tiny pocket of its mind exists evolution and extinction. But there is something nuzzled in between.That’s this place.A Möbius stripDoubling up on itself until it becomes a haze.Not quite there. Not quite a vagueness.”Julie Berger Lindh