Four nested tents which can all be entered, a small brownstown, trees, dirt, nylon, log cabin, tin roof, wheat berries, shades
of incandescence, lover's letters that have been answered, a tent that you might have slept in, a house I tried to build,
a really nice workbench, something warm, something cold, abandoned auras, this and that, something electronic, three women
(maybe two), something by chance, something from a vast catalog, something to eat, positions unknown, something Dinah Washington
might have sung low, something else and then something else again.
A Lover's Wunderkammern (Sophie Replies) is stage set waiting for the audience to complete and occupy it- a poor woman's
twisted theme park lost somewhere between the 18th century and a really good hardware store where the employees choose the
music and everything is on sale and the whole thing can fit inside an airstream trailer. It aims to fabricate a zone of concentration,
a model of invitation, erotic intrigue and clean slates. Each nested tent forms another and the whole thing can collapse
if one stake is extracted from the equation.