A memorial to the imminent death of Film - Tacita wants us to stand up and take notice of this impending disaster
No more colour in our lives
Falling falling, falling ...
We are moving at the pace of a snail
A massive alter piece at the end of a darkened turbine hall - an art gallery as a place of worship
The light comes on
Sticking our heads in the sand - it may never happen
Tacita is watching us - to see if we will do anything
Or is like getting blood from a stone ?
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