In the middle of a lukewarm night about a month ago, a group of friends and I trespassed onto the Crim Dell Amphitheatre. Crossing the triple-layered yellow rope felt how I’d imagine stepping into a boxing ring for a welterweight bout might feel… Something on the other end of those menacing “DANGER DO NOT ENTER” signs fastened to the rope I found a bit ironic: no clear and obvious sense of impending doom.

The world outside furiously rolls along the pane of laminated glass like snapshots on an everlasting film reel. For now, the sequence features an anonymous roadside corn field, but that’s bound to change as we move along the road.