Making maps  out of strips of fabric to record the memory of our old neighborhoods, and then hanging them up to where gravity pulls them down into a cascade of  intersections and overlapping loops.  No longer recognizable as the same maps, but new maps. 

And then taking these new maps and transcribing them onto a small length of paper by punching out holes – marking  where  perceived coordinates and territories lay.  Resulting in  maps that mark only absence in relation to other absences – an array of holes.

And then feeding these maps through a music box which can read holes and decipher them into sound,  a landscape of sound.  A new map.