When you enter this room, you see that it is made up of two different parts. The parts are not very different from each other, though. 

The whole room has parquet flooring in the colour of an old, burnt tree and there is fine, white dust everywhere. It’s on the floor, on the walls, on your clothes, on your hair, and it fills the air. 

On your right side, you see two people arguing.

But then you’d have to give up the richness of visual expression.

– No, you don’t, because you always have symbolism at your back that could help you

– If you use symbolism, you've already given up minimalism!

– That is not necessarily true, considering the possibility of…

And so on, talking about abstract expressions and aesthetic crises of the performing arts and beneficial or destructive influences of associate arts. And as they speak a small marble ball appears above their heads, and as they go on and on the marble ball grows like a balloon until it explodes into a thousand pieces. You follow the falling of the splinters with your eyes and then you notice a third figure there on the floor, kneeling on the ground and silently picking up the tiny and bigger fragments of marble. Collecting them for something. Observing them one by one, turning towards the light shining from the centre of the room. This person seems to be an Androgyne. A beautiful being with a face painted with sharp and tender movements by a hand that was willing to give freedom for their creation. The hair is white, and the eyes are so dark and deep that you tremble under their gaze. 

They are making a mosaicof sorts from the marble parts while the other two continue arguing. Those two are getting louder and louder and they seem to be distracting the Androgyne; the deep, dark eyes close slowly and the Androgyne inhales for what feels like an eternity. And then the eyes open, the Androgyne jumps up on their feet and shouts in an otherworldly voice:


– ssssss!

A smooth and sweet calming sound comes from your left. You turn your head and see an Old One, with their white eyebrows that reach all the way to the ground, a bald head and a face as wrinkled as an avocado. You see the blue, purple and lilac capillaries running under that almost transparently pale skin of their skull.  The Old One is sitting in front of an enormous block of marble. It is about ten or fifteen times the size of this persons body. It seems like this small old thing is sitting at the foot of a mountain. 

You also hear something like... a murmur from their direction. 

– mmm…m…mmmm….mmm…mmmm…m…mm…mmmmmm….mmm.

This goes on for several momoents but you just can’t take your eyes off that Old One sitting there with closed eyes. And then, with the same sharpness of the Androgyne’s outburst, the eyes open and the Old One speaks very clearly, just one word.

And when the word has been spoken a gigantic crack appears across that mountain of marble, and a huge part of it falls to the ground with a thundering sound, stirring up the white dust everywhere.

Then it all starts over. They close their eyes and start murmuring again. But now the Old One say three words 


The whole mountain seems to have been destroyed: parts of it explode and cracks appear everywhere. Eyes closed, murmuring again.


Now something happens that feels exceptionally odd, even for you who is completely new to this company. The three people on the opposite side of the room stop moving and for a moment they are immobile. The old creature, eyes still closed, starts smiling almost imperceptibly. 

– Keresésem mindig függőleges. – they whisper as the complete sentence is born.

- Függőleges? That doesn’t even make sense, old man! – says one of the arguing fellows, but the Androgyne knocks him out with a punch so that he will not disturb what is about to happen.

The wind in the room picks up. It sweeps away the dust, the remaining splinters, and the outline of the marble mountain. It is a proper storm. You have to cover your face because at one point you start choking on it. As it passes you see a statue. Or maybe not. You see that it is beauty itself. You see the perfection. But you cannot see the forms or the shapes. You see brightness. And you see the Androgyne walking towards the Old One and handing on the mosaic of splinters. Saying thank you with a hand gesture, the Old One takes it and puts it down on the floor, and just sits down in front of it.
The one who had been knocked out stands up and starts arguing with the other again. The Androgyne walks back and sits down on the floor to collect the splinters. And the Old One sits looking at the mosaic for a while. When they close their eyes they start inhaling and exhaling deeply for a long time. With every circle of air flying through their body the mosaic pulses. And it grows.

You watch it. The marble that used to be a tiny mosaic is now taller than you are. As you stare at it mesmerized, the Androgyne steps next to you and looks into your eyes. And says the following:

I’ve seen it. Now, I must go, because this is no place for me. 

The Androgyne is clearly addressing you with these words. They grab your left upper arm and pull you to the door. The Androgyne opens the door and with an apologetic smile pushes you through it;  once you are at the corridor, they close the door behind you