To enter she steps up onto the platform.

Creaking under her footsteps, she is led to the soiled apron, hanging ready.

In the open space of the room, black sand is raked into a garden.

The sand is saturated, a sheen of oil on its surface.

In the center of the zen garden, hangs the rake.

The garden’s pattern is disturbed by a set of footprints.

An invitation to don the apron and step down into the sand.

To try and complete the task of smoothing the garden.

Of erasing the signs of human involvement.

Of making the space ideal.