The Olympic Sculpture Park was a destination; we bopped in and I struggled with my inability to appreciate the giant orange traffic cones. I walked through the great steel sculpture with my brother and let his appreciation rub off on me, yet I still couldn't shake the feeling that this was just in-between space. It didn't feel like a destination, it felt like an attempt to make barrenness demand attention. I know, I am obnoxious and blind to some greater truth. When my old friend Dan happened upon the troll under the Aurora bridge, I felt more appreciative of the sculpture. I was in awe of its size and I felt a childlike appreciation of its scariness. That it rested under the Bridge of the goddess of the Dawn allowed me to imagine that stories existed which made the sculpture seem more significant. That it is was a real VW, made the monster seem more alive.
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