
Viewers/visitors/players ascend towards the artist, seeking wisdom. But he does not yield. They never see the empty coat-hangers and blindly pass us by.
"The world... ravaged... the sun beat down on the carbon stricken rock. Civilisation... a distant memory. Human-robot sex... the norm. Each day, every day, survival and ... how? this-thus."
A not too distant, distant too hot near-future.
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