You are within a dark space, perhaps a hall, or the hold of a ship, dark timberwork and shadows.
You are surrounded by ice.
On your right is a statue of a man, striding out like Liberty, cold and blue-clear.
In front of you is a block, frosty white. Inside there is a hollow space; a man standing.
To your left there is another figure, curled up and turned away.
Walk forward and touch the ice. Feel the slick chill of melting.
Colour runs into the sawdust. Your hands are faded.
Perhaps you are ice too.