And here you are walking along an unfamiliar street, thick clouds of fog get under your feet and slow down your movements, total darkness blinds you. You stop to catch your breath and notice the outline of a house somewhere up there. Like small beacons, a single candle flickers in each window. Having not without difficulty climbed several steps leading to the front door, you notice that many years have passed since the last time it was opened – such a thick layer of rust covers all the details of its design. And now you no longer leave the confidence that whoever lights these candles, they burn just for you, and that this someone is waiting for you inside the rooms. Someone who had locked himself in the dark corridors long before the rust had gnawed through all the iron surfaces. Someone who knows how to wait. Someone who has been waiting for more than two decades. Waiting for you.