I walked by a very tiny Brooklyn block party the other day. On the corner of Grattan and Bogard, there was a string hanging cross with paper attached by small wooden laundry pins. My companion took a sheet and read, excited by the prospect of what lay ahead.

It was a scavenger hunt, offering us some curiosity, we called the number with a cryptic message asking us to find wormwood tied by pink ribbons. The recorded voice on the line invited us, “Come have tea.” I wondered if it would be a found art project full of people found at the block party. My companion, being savvier than I, she found the bundle of wood after some scouting. We followed it to an iron stairway path lined with green bags full of dirt.

We. Found. A. Hut. It was made with other found objects. And “found people,” sitting inside a faux fur-lined structure. They were having an impromptu discussion on waste, having entered the structure through a curtain of pristine white hanging plastic of tampons. We didn’t have any desire to talk to these people, but we wanted to sit in the hut.

After thought: I guess a lot of people in Brooklyn have iMacs.