I carefully approached an open room whose insides consisted of several frames, one of glass, one of plastic and the last one a simple opening. My eyes follow the vibrant blues and reds of the floor and they are entranced by the bright orange umbrella and the falling snow. This is an image of juxtapositions, of textures soft and coarse, of dense shadows and brilliant snowflakes, and watching it all, are calm and collected monks standing on the edge of floating world suddenly made pure and quiet by a flurry of snow.

You misinterpret everything, even the silence.

The Castle

Franz Kafka