№ 0001·NIGHT 001·Atlantic Avenue, for part of it·AUG 26 2026·1:44–5:35 AM
WEDNESDAY
A TABLE → A CAB → A GARBAGE TRUCK → AN ELEVATOR → THE SAME TABLE
Wednesday, August 26, 2026
1:44–5:35 AM
1:44 AM
A table. A glass of water. A phone, face up. A mask. Nobody took anything off.

2:17 AM
A shop that sells ouds. Closed. We stood in front of it for eleven minutes. Nobody came.



3:46 AM
He got in a cab. The cab had been waiting there since before we arrived. He looked back once.



3:48 AM
A cross on a wall, lit from behind. He looked at it for a while. It did not do anything.



3:52 AM
Signs.




“Push button for.”
4:35 AM
Trash night. The bags were out early. They were not going anywhere.

4:37 AM
Outside a building numbered 65, a garbage truck had its mouth open and six people we did not know were posing in front of it. They asked for the pictures. These are the pictures. The truck kept eating.




4:41 AM
Things on the ground.



4:42 AM
A lobby. An elevator. A camera in a triangle, and a man in the elevator who had noticed the camera.






4:51 AM
Something spilled on the floor and nobody cleaned it up. By morning it had a shape. The shape was Ohio.


5:17 AM
A copy of Walden on the table. Nobody was reading it. Nobody had been reading it for some time.

5:35 AM
A couch. The same mask. Four hours later. It had not come off.



People encountered
someone in a mask · a man in a cab · a man who looked at a cross · a delivery rider · six people and a garbage truck · a man in an elevator · the elevator