Ten minutes. That’s all Father Murphy grant to their sonic illustration of the execution place of Jesus Christ, Dismas and Gestas. It is a preparation and a ghostly residue; the assembly of deathly circumstance ahead of time and the echo of a monumental event now passed. The events are lingering and vivid: the clang of metal depicting a structural framework mid-erection, the crackle of breaking wood and tightening ropes as the cross comes to materialise, the warbling cries of the future ghosts of the executed. I stand poised upon the tipping point between life and the aftermath of sacrifice. The sounds are like muffled artefacts of a former time, yet as the clatter of materials reverberates across a landscape that rests barren with expectation, I find myself thrust in amongst a disturbing present tense. Bass frequencies (plucked double bass strings, reverse slurps) curl up in my stomach like lead weights. The cross is almost ready.