Masks seem to superimpose upon a vast anonymity, faces beneath become slack...forego face-hood. A strange empowerment surges, these masks cannot be undone...haunting an already haunted landscape whilst peeping through eye-holes. A certain voyeurism of inner terror playfully diffused where it may. The head feels bagged, sold and carried around--one feels decentralized...combed over by a losing of gravity. A sparse connectivity runs the body deliciously, as if the consequences of the material world were scared away. The interplay of what's dead in such a living, gives masks a life of their own. All Hallow's Eve all day long...till what collective ghost be given up to its night. To wander a night that's pitched itself forever more-- punctuated by Jack o' lanterns that grin and bear...what's at the tip of their flame's tongue.