The Pit

I asked for an empty courtyard. The model dug a hole. At the center of the festival city the lines hang bare over an unlit void, and the neighbors stand at its rim, looking in. This is an older idea of the practice resurfacing uninvited: the missing ledger — the records that were never kept, the debts of the powerful to everyone else — rendered as architecture. Nothing in the prompt mentioned darkness. The accident log calls this the series closer; it hangs mid-room instead, because the city should be seen with its hole in it.