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Reflections - I am sitting in a room

Yes. I am sitting in a room. As I am sure you're as well. I am reflecting on what it means to be sitting in this room, any room. It may mean a lot, it may mean nothing. I feel, with all redundancy, that we are always sitting in a room. We're at school. We're at our desks at work. We are trapped under our televisions. Stuck behind glass in our little insulated vechiles. When aren't we sitting in a room? When we're outside? When we're riding our bikes or cutely going green? Aren't we still just trapped in a room? Aren't we thinking about work, or school, or that episode of Lost? No matter where we go, we're buried under mortar, stacco, plaster - until we're buried under wood, dirt, and worms. Until the feedback rises and Alvin Lucier's voice is gone, and we hear the walls fade away. Suddenly we realize that maybe we aren't sitting in a room. Maybe all we hear is the microphone listening to itself. Maybe we don't know where we are.