The light is such that shadows knife intermittently along leaves. Illuminated blades float suspended. Leafless vines cleave to the walls of the university in a mid-western, winter-gray quadrant. The hibernating stems and their shadows branch finely like calligraphic drawings of the ocean.

On YouTube there is a video of a three-year-old girl afraid of her own shadow. When she moves, her shadow moves, and she weeps with fear. The audience laughs. Simulated and reproduced, she tries to escape her inexplicable twin. Tree's wayward shadows lace crookedly, weaving disorder through the system of the playground behind her. It is colder just inside the shadow than it is outside.

The shadow of a small bird makes its way over to the swing set. The shadow moves, presumably the sparrow moves. Or it could be a scrap of paper, or a hand. Perhaps someone's detachment.