The forty two prints of the etching, "Night Visitation" were given away. They were not to be sold. Each is printed on very old and acidic classroom penmanship paper and are certain not to last long. Each interior snapshot here is taken by one of the print's possessors. Other prints were anchored to the outside of buildings in the New York neighborhoods I lived in from 1975-1980. And so, not unlike the title, the prints themselves perform an uncomfortable visitation, an unlikely return.

The micrographic text for "Night Visitation" is a text in flux. Purposefully, it is a rough draft that will never become a finished text. Its content is too dark and weird and sad for the writer to recover. It fades in and out of legibility on the paper itself. Its subject ranges from species of beds to linen foxholes, witch trials to the trial of Adolphus Woolfli, and dirt dens of porn to the Cu Chi tunnels.

An Excerpt from a further, but failed, revision of "Night Visitation" after the printing:

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Fernand Deligny is the cinematographer. He is a researcher rather than pedophile, wordlessly following autistic boys through the French countryside. He marks and maps the places where the boys pause and finds that the boys linger on the ground above underground aquifers. Their bodies become a sort of divining rod nee witching stick and he films this; boys who do not group together, but—in their scattering—are cleaved to the earth.

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Now, Deligny claimed that language was often more problem than tool and so instead of a talking cure applied to the boys who could not talk, he would show them the films of themselves moving through the woods and pastures. There was a possibility that this would make them want to approach and join the realm of speaking and touching, that is the land of mothers and fathers, of lovers and babies, of speeches and letters, of bludgeoning and forcing, of flirting and whispering, and ultimately, of laboring against and laboring together.

This is our world. Did they want it?

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When Deligny's colleague, Deleuze, decides to make a connection between a painter called Florence Julien and Deligny he says this: "Certain groups or people lack a given line or have lost it... the line of light of children leaving school is very different from that of demonstraters being chased by the police or a prisoner breaking out. There are different animal lines of flight: each species, each individual has its own."

What is left behind when the child flies from a night visitation: bed, room, house, fort. Words are left too.

Wait, there is one man looking, behind the eye of the camera, making record without hands or words.

No, wait that was just an intermediary state. The child's line of flight is beyond the camera's sight lines. By her moving at the speed of light and moving after light, the camera cannot follow her.

And she has learned this: 'Dusk and Dawn: they are your escape hatches.'