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The air shimmers, it is hot, one person enters the still empty or supposedly empty stage or the harbor or or or and speaks, where are we? And where are the places we speak of, who the companies, the people. A swirl that supports the air’s flickering, sewing machine sound as a grumble and maybe already a bit of kiss and glamour. Is the system tipping now? Is this the end of capitalism? The world turns, not.

A second person appears. The curtain falls. Now. The light only really comes on here.

Then the epidemic becomes a pandemic, the infection historical, consumption significant, the gap of inadequate distribution almost unsustainable. And what does art do? It tries to capture the moment, because in times of the epidemic art is the end remaining imaginable from now on.