A body in flames wanders around the city in despair. Walking erroneously in the street, just before the world as we know it falls apart, crumbles into small particles and disappears, the catastrophe seems to have just eluded it. It retains no memory, no document or testimony. All it can recall is that only a moment earlier it was late fall and now it is spring, and the fields below are green and moist. Between a lost archive and a missed opportunity, its ashes rise as access and as excess.