I have forgotten when that day was, all I remember is black, black in every moment. I picked up a phone, I could even hear your sob from the other side of the world. I cannot react since I should behave normally, the way Jan Dibbets uses numerous tools to create the same black: no matter what happens behind the scenes, people will always look and concentrate on the stage. You did not say you were crying, I chose not to ask why, why you said nothing, but showed me something—your tears. I hung up the phone, felt that I was in the picture, boxed behind these black fences. The only way I could escape, was to be one of these black fences. I could only say, I am visiting a museum with my friends, and today’s weather is nice.