The corn against my body felt cool, slippery, and tight. Any movement I made, the corn would tighten up against my body, filling every available gap. When I looked up at folks while they poured corn onto me, I was very thankful for their involvement. I was curious about how each person decided to pour corn; fast, slow, gently, lots or just a little quickly. Sometimes there was conversation, and sometimes there was just the audio in the background. I was comfortable, most of the time. The hardest moments were, when the weight of the corn around my chest got heavier as it rose closer to my neck, and each breath became more difficult.
There was not always a constant flow of people, I spent time alone too. I felt helpless, because I could not move, but relaxed. I enjoyed listening to all the interviews and sounds that I recorded. The wind blew and leafs would fall into the corn crib coming close to my head. The smell and coolness of the earth was pleasant. I closed my eyes. Other times I would rotate my head in all directions looking at how the sun light burst through the slats of wood.
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