Whoever has been to Rushdie will understand.
White Night in June. Half of Darkness. Together with friends, we look at an abandoned career. The view is stunning. The cockroaches fly. I begin to think about where they are flying – under you, near the water, or above you, and below their shadows. I look, I don’t understand. I can’t see where the water is. The water is very transparent, plus semi-dark, marble rocks. I start to sneeze, it doesn’t help.
Behind the voice of a friend - "Where are they flying?! I am not rubbing! Where is water? I have not yet loaded the textures!"