The anonymity of that tide of humanity, indistinguishable with the exception of direction, served to highlight the sense that I was moving without volition or vantage, little more than a cog in a wheel. Tension highlighted my experience inside this massive sculpture. A flash of anxiety punctuated a childhood memory that surfaced without preamble.
My anxiety grew as the crowd of holiday shoppers pressed in around me and my mother. The
light changed, providing momentum to the crowd; we moved in mass to cross the street. I lost hold of my mother’s hand midway as we met an equal mass of pedestrians forging a path in the opposite direction. Panicked, I’d stood rooted to the spot as the crowd dwindled and my mother reappeared to sweep me up into her arms.
I found her creative voice extraordinary, too; and provocative.