On that day when they envisioned the time to come, they talked at length about the act of tracing and counting the time that had passed. After having gone through a specific time together, their individual memories of the past remained different from one another. The fact that everyone has different memories becomes a phenomenon of the time spent together. It is biased and impartial. It is something one naturally learns through experience, yet even after experiencing it, one may still remain in a state of not knowing or being unable to know. This sentence might be part of a definition surrounding time: an assumption that seems difficult to escape, the truth and falsehood of experiencing something as time art… Reading the documents while pondering thoughts resembling a labyrinth with no exit.

July 27, 2024, after 5 PM. Recording the time.

A part of the document is a letter. The letter is posted on a bulletin board. They exchanged several letters in the past, so what we see here is a letter written by one person to another. In a place “where the characteristics of ‘stage’ and ‘sculpture’ are oddly mixed together” (from a letter dated August 6, 2022), the letter outlines intermittently the process of “performance becoming rehearsal and rehearsal becoming performance” (from a letter dated August 27, 2022). According to the letter, they wrote, sent or did not send, received, read, practiced, and performed, and then performed and practiced. The letters, realized in the spatiotemporal past, are exhibited here as evidence of time.

In this space, which functions as both an exhibition hall and a performance venue, the area is designed as a stage. Various documents, including letters, and objects occupy different parts of the stage, allowing visitors to navigate the stage, read documents, and interact with objects. At certain times, visitors might see a group occupying one part of the stage. They are seated around a table on chairs. Voices can be heard, and a conversation is taking place. It seems possible to approach them and speak, whether abruptly or calmly, since everyone appears to be on the same stage from an external perspective. However, no one initiates a conversation. They are in a state of performance, while the visitors are in a state of observation. Although no one has made any promises, both the performers and the observers maintain their respective states on the same stage.

Seeing them not approaching me, I come to trust this place.

The contents of the letter are also realized in some form.

“We haven’t completed it, but just in case you’re curious about the letters we wrote, we’ll leave them under the stone by the pillar.” (Letter dated August 24, 2022)

While wandering around the space, I find a document with a corner folded, wedged under a stone. Fragments of text labeled “Pieces of Space” and “Reconstruct” are discovered.

There is no evidence to confirm that this document is the one referenced in the previous letter. Nevertheless, I choose to believe that this document is indeed that letter. Because it is implemented in a similar manner, I decide to accept this as that.

I believe that the investigation here is about finding and adhering to promises.

Reading a letter sent by someone to someone else is both joining in on a kind of secret and realizing that it is no longer a secret. It may never have been a secret in the first place. The status of secrecy becomes irrelevant. To me, still unable to escape the labyrinth with no exit, a person who was observing approaches and hands me a folded document.

I receive the document. (When it is not unfolded, it remains a secret letter.)

The person I thought was observing turns out to be performing.

The person has vanished, and I quickly lose sight of them.

I take the document in my hand and unfold it.

It is a letter made public on the wall.

Once again, I turn towards the letter hanging as a document.

So, there is a form called a document. Something that contains something like a box. There is substance. It is delivered folded. It unfolds. The crease marks remain. It unfolds with traces. And thus, it hangs on the wall.

I feel relieved that the documents are scattered.

The fact that documents, objects, people, and everything are dispersed all around satisfies me.

I wish that none of what has been meticulously arranged here be organized.

Stuck in a place “that cannot lead to a performance, nor connect to another rehearsal” (from the letter dated August 24, 2022), I wish to maintain this state.

I wish to continue assembling and reassembling the scattered pieces here without moving forward to anywhere.

I wish the scattered state here remains dispersed as if contained in something like a box.

So, this is my desire. It is like a secret. A state that cannot be preserved merely by wanting to, nor achieved just by wishing for it.

Collecting parts becomes something entirely different from the original form. I resolve to accept such a state and to believe in it.

That is the only way to remember the time that has passed.

However, if the document is something like a box, it could be thrown and spilled out.

People who can throw away what they have made. I write their names on the document.

It may be difficult to send them a letter.

It is possible to write a letter.

^{Translated by ChatGPT}