There is a crack in the ceiling that cuts across diagonally from the furthest corner of the space all the way to the front. To the right of the crack is the garden, to the left the living quarters. A figure lies immobile in the centre of the space. Between the figure’s feet there is a mark on the wall resembling a door handle. A glob of plaster covering up maybe a hole left behind by a nail or an accidental bang with a clumsy hammer. This mark is the anchor, it keeps the space centred and concentrated. The figure blinks, slowly. Count the days, again.
Total number of days: 45. Mark the number on the ceiling, begin inventory.
In the nearest corner of the garden, over the figure’s right shoulder, there is a spider web that grows larger everyday. The spider is busy, and seemingly unbothered by the shoulder’s presence. It will undoubtedly be covered soon.
Diameter of spider web: 33cm. 3cm longer than yesterday.
Halfway down the garden, near the hip area, is the heart of the “aviary”. Getting busier now, flies multiplying through the abundance of nutrition available to them. The stench emanating from this area was powerful, but even if it still fills the space, the figure can no longer sense it. Attempt to count the number of flies, but as usual they will keep moving and it’s hard to come up with an exact figure.
Number of flies: approximately 90.
Down by the figure’s feet is a bucket. Twice a day, almost every day, the bucket is retrieved and then lowered into the space through the hatch on the corner of the ceiling, which the crack neatly edges around. The bucket is the occasional sun, marking day and night. Day is for water, night is for gruel. At the appointed time, the figure sits up slowly, careful not to bang its head against the ceiling, and either shares the meal in silence with the maggots that the guards have taken to use as garnish, or sprinkles some of the water on the spider web, and drinks from the bucket while observing the drops glitter in the faint ray of light that filters through the one unsealed edge of the hatch.
Number of buckets: 1. Continue inventory.
To the left, in the living area, there is the artwork. Primitive markings on the wall, made by hands long ago. Means of communication. They may or may not be understood. They are just there. White scratches on the concrete surface. The figure sometimes turns over and adds some scratches of its own. And so the artwork evolves.
2 girls
3 persons of indistinct gender
1 house
1 gun, scratched out
2 hanging figures
1 flower, unfinished
Over the figure’s left shoulder, the concentric contours of a spreading patch of damp cover the corner of the wall. White powdery salt-like clusters gathering around the outline.
Patches of damp: 1, growing.
Look back inside the space. There is nothing else. This is all there is.
A small space. A still warm body. Faeces. Flies. Scratches. Cracks. A spider and a bucket.
