Frames are stacked in a hive, one next to the other with black between. The combination of thick frames and blank spaces makes the box shape of the hive. Pictures here have no depth, laid one atop of the other without filling or creating any extra space at all.

Out of the center, of the frame, of the space between frames, the word THE emerges. A figure climbing a ladder in a Muybridge sequence, going nowhere, and locked there on the ladder, maybe looped en route. Or a newspaper word made into bulb light rolling across the fa軋de of that building in Times Square. It exits both ways. It will come rolling back in a few seconds from now. This THE is the THE that repeats. It is the plural THE that defines the darkness in the hive, that emerges from between the frames to speak itself (ok, we speak it, and don't get shook up, in speaking it, the THE, no chance it says us instead).