|12 x 12 x 15 cm|
I was walking down the middle of 5th avenue on September 11th, 2001, around 10 am. That was the last time this phone rang. It was my cousin Chris. Somehow he carved his way through the airwaves and got hold of me. I told him that I was OK, that Adrianna was OK, that I loved him and tell everyone just that, goodbye.
Later that day or week, I don't remember, when, through its abject lack of functionality, this thing only served to remind me of just how cut off from my family I was, I redefined its function: it became the object of my ire. It was duly smashed.