Another delay on another, different line. I can get nowhere without being lagged. The spectacle is on stand-by, over here no time does pass. It’s a temporary place of deficient, sedative dynamics – just a beat per minute. Slow events for makeshift audiences – shuffling backgrounds, gentle sounds. Most of it is AC anyway and it’s good the damn thing is on. There is good deal of dust floating and it’s hard to guess how long we’ve been here for. The air has been stale for ages. I have seen this before, though, not much of a surprise. It looks the same everywhere – each an instance of one, basic model: hotel room, an airport, duty free, reception hall, a waiting room. A managed, momentary environment, a homogenous non-space. I am cargo, this is limbo. An antechamber of agamic space - for drifting, with vending machines, to be stored up in for the time being.

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