Mix: Resolution.

Three years later I figure it out, who you are, mixtape sender, mysterious stranger, crypto-Upper Peninsulan, old friend. A friend mentions that she was at a residency last year in Nebraska City, Nebraska. I inquire. It turns out there's an artist residency there, the Kimmel Harding Residency. A residency? In Nebraska City, Nebraska, home of Arbor Day? Yes, a residency. They have a list online of their previous residents along with their dates of residency. I scan the names. It has to be someone there on a residency. That makes so much sense. You do strange things on residencies. Hide things in public spaces. Conduct interventionist art. Post random projects to friends. When you limit your inputs like you often do at a residency, you start to generate more unusual outputs. See also Oulipo. (See also "Space".) You want to have a personal conversation with others who have shared the space, or who will occupy the space after you.

I know a lot of the names. I don't know what it says about me. But one in particular catches my eye, and the mystery is solved. Of course Alicia is the culprit. Culprit isn't the right word, sure, I know this. But the instigator. Well played, Alicia. It's bittersweet, I suppose, to close this open door, but more sweet than bitter, as I am the agent of the solution. The world offers so few of these rewards for our attention that we best take them when they're offered, before they disappear back into the blackness.