Scene One:
There is a mountain that is crumpled and refracted. This mountain remains a distant landscape that can neither be approached nor ascended. But I own this mountain. The landscape captured in the water has become fossilized.

Scene Two:
Inside a dark room.
The only thing that is visible is a window, which grabs my attention. I can see a view of the monotonous ocean through the window. When the sun glows on the horizon and the sky becomes dark, an occasional blinking light from a lighthouse brings me into reality. I hear and feel a low frequency ticking sound that creates a vibration from somewhere in the room. By the time I am accustomed to the dark, I am able to see a phone on the wall.

Scene Three:
When I pick up the phone, suddenly, the room becomes bright. Once the light is on, the landscape of the ocean vanishes. I am greatly relieved when I hear someone on the other side of the line humming, so that I can feel somehow connected. Is he or she somewhere in the landscape that I can see through the window?
I start to recognize myself in the dark, looking back at myself from the window. The sound of ticking from somewhere in the room is coming from on top of a table in the dark.
Tick Tock Tick Tock
A black tooth, hanging by a thread and suspended from the ceiling, bounces every now and then. A truncated ear, carved into yellow blocks made from margarine, counts the number. I hang up the phone.
And it is dark again.

Scene Four:
I exit the room. Transparent and round-shaped lighting holds within it the radiance of its color—pink—and contains a daily record that does not change easily. Every day I crumble and scatter. And suddenly, I am buried yet again.