Five hundred years of age. The windows are almost hidden by leaves. Night is near. Inside the house a cold entrance and with blankets covering the frontdoor to keep the cold out. The first door has the year 1757 cut out in it.
First room is the kitchen, the next a huge scullery with lots of doors leading to tiny rooms.
And on the walls different banknotes, empty CDs held by small needles. On the table two pyramids, a crystal and lots of old coins left for remembrance by the kids coming here once a week. The room is not empty now. Two persons are sitting at the strange table. Thoughts and words are flying across the table as they always do, when we are sitting together in this room, where words and thoughts are hanging in the air like the bottles and cans, so we only have to grasp them and put them together into deep meanings.