In spite of what it represents, fresh cement really is quite beautiful. Unfortunately most people only believe in two kinds of history: the history that never was, and the history that will never be. I want to figure out the exact music to play at every moment of the day, and then never leave. I know there was something more I wanted to say, something big, but it’s gone. Maybe I’ll watch the construction site again, how in spite of all these huge machines there’s still so much human labor required, and somehow this is comforting.