Wherever you go, the street casts its shadow on you. Mud is thicker than water. Impurity transfers energy. So we removed it. We made the room immune to all currents, safe from influence and doubt. Please leave the room alone. The space has suffered enough. There is always somebody hiding and grasping on straws, somebody passing or humming. Entire perspectives populated with disappointment and hope. So we carved the room out of the city and somebody put up a tent on it, then a hand passed by and left some writings. The floor smells of trains.
— Monika Kalinauskaitė