This is really very interesting observation: most of the time I do nothing. I sit. I walk. I stand. I wait. I lurk. I would like to lurk but I am not. I hang around. First of all I hang around. I drift. I'm ramBLINg ..... I'm going here. I'm going there. To this wall. To that wall. Then again to this one. Into this corner. Into that corner. I'm walking around one machine. I'm walking around another machine. I'm passing by one machine. I'm passing by another machine. I'm coming back to the device I have just passed by. Once again I'm passing it by. I don't know how many times I'm passing it by. I'm dragging the ladder. I'm carrying the ladder. I'm moving the ladder. I'm climbing up. I'm climbing down. Up. and down. And again. I'm fighting against the wind rushing violently into the hall, opening the door. I'm shutting the door. The wind's opening the door. I'm shutting the door. We could play the concert together. I'm observing a brick and trying to notice in it the whole universe. I can't see it. I know it is there but I don't see it. Have I got blind? Have I got deaf? And suddenly I see and hear. I must remember what I see and hear. Write it down quickly. Grasp it somehow. Catch it somehow. Keep it somehow. I'm rustling the paper sheets. I'm disturbing the silence. And then again nothing. Only hanging around. Drifting - - - - - - - This is how it looks like. What looks like that way? My thinking. It is like this hall. Emptiness and silence. First of all emptiness and silence. Only in some places a concentration, a condensation, having the form of an old machine. An abrupt compactness and denseness.

I'm coming back. Darkening sky over my head. Darkening sky in my head. Maybe I should come back home. Give up. Because there is a huge obstacle I can't overcome. I don't know what it is. Something that makes the walls mute. Instead of telling stories they only mumble incomprehensibly. inconpreheNsIBLy. Incomprehensible mumBLINg. It's good I don't have to go far. My legs are aching after the whole day long hanging around and fruitless running from one corner to another. My body is aching. My mind is aching.