The world stretches infinitely, like a long strand of toffee being pulled from both ends, unwilling to break but getting thinner and thinner, losing its color to a dull white. Time stands still as if hypnotized by distance and jammed from within. Sounds are muted, muffled and distorted, occasionally shrieking out of control like hysterical bursts of laughter played by an old phonograph losing speed. Life’s images are blurred and grainy, they collide jerkily one into another without harmony, ignoring their own identity. A few moments lasting many, slow motion of an already frozen track, only questions and possibilities as bones. The flesh is cold. But this is when anything goes, history can be made, all avenues open up after a small last giant step. It’s fusion of the core, melting of cages and warm up of engines. It’s slightly before coffee.