"This is not Trollholmen Deborah!"

On the black plate in the center you can see all the cuts of the
objects in the room. Or is it a map of the sounds in the room?
Sounds shoot across the plate and then from object to object.
Everything communicates with each other and is connected.
The artificial and cold secretes something reassuring in a
familiar way. It is a dialogue whose language we know but do
not understand and, like a singing lake, also harbors something
mysterious despite its beauty.