This report of praxis is submitted by the cat with no ears, because Rainy is exhausted from the heat and humidity--and it was only 7 am. (Actually, the humidity diminishes as the day progresses, but then there is too much sun.)

So, we went to this abandoned foundation that Rainy likes. Rainy is strange. It's a big object, and it sits by the train tracks with a recycling plant on one side and a school for human young on the other. Fortunately, it was Saturday morning, so there were none of them about, only some construction workers at the building going up across the street. And a man on a bicycle who gave us a cheerful "hola."



Rainy decided to use colored pencils rather than leave a note on paper that would probably blow away and create litter. Originally, she was going to do a mandala in colored sand, too. But she didn't.



She tried a couple of spots until she found one that was smooth enough. She had to stop to sharpen the pencils a lot. I chased bugs. She ended up shortening the note some, because writing on the cement was kind of hard.

This is what the original note said:

Dear Abandoned Foundation,
You sit here, a cement foundation warming in the sun, cooling in
the night, washed by rain, scoured by wind, dreaming of what you might
be, might have been. Freight trains rumble and clatter past you, the recycling plant roars on one side of you, a gaily painted school on the other; people pass you, walking dogs and going places. You are a
place that is not. Grass grows in your cracks.
I like you because you speak to me of hope and despair, possibility and abandonment, at the same time.
So I made you this mandala. For this moment, you are a canvas and we will dream together by the train tracks.
Thank you,
Rainy

In retrospect, this note was a little overwrought. Plus, no mandala.

This is what the final note said:

Dear Abandoned Foundation,
You sit here, a cement foundation warming in the sun, cooling in the night, washed by rain, scoured by wind, dreaming of what you might be, might have been. Trains rumble and clatter past you. You are a place that is not.
I like you. You speak of hope and despair at the same time. Possibility and abandonment together.
Thank you,
Rainy