There is a room, a fish, a decorative aquarium, and in the middle of all that – a posh seeker. Just there.

Unawareness feeds the imagination and maybe we see a fish where it’s not or the way around. Still, every cheesy old truth has eaten its way into the mind, as always, every single one of them makes the soft and impressionable tissue stiffer and then a miracle happens – a human stone is crystallised. A monument made of silted thoughts takes form. A dried turd. That is a real pillar.

This is an expedition which drags itself to the safe unknown navigating on the autopilot.