For quite some time we’ve been travelling from point P ( as in present) to point F ( as in future). At some unmarked point on the map it turns out that the road that we are supposed to keep moving on, is under construction. It’s being worked on by some pseudo construction workers using old, faulty equipment. We stand and watch, honking the horn from time to time. Yet “the construction” drags on endlessly. The feeling that we are in danger of being irretrievably late or arriving in the dark becomes more and more real and intrusive. We try to scream – the workers are deaf, the machine helpless but loud. We fall asleep tired from all the waiting and anger. We sleep and sleep. But apparently we were born lucky. We dream of a solution. It is as if someone is projecting it on a big screen in a car cinema in the middle of summer:
“When the road is completely blocked by an old, rotten and flawed machine, the only way to restore the traffic is… to break the machine completely. “
We wake up and… we know what we are supposed to do.