The camera's eye returns obsessively to the same places, a vertical perspective that imposes control, the possession of archaeological sites, stones lying for thousands years in the desert.
«It’s going to be quite soundless, the roar of our aircraft is drowning everything else. We are running straight into the most gigantic display of soundless fireworks in the world, and here we go to drop our bombs».
An old woman leans to the young man with the yellow book sitting next to her and asks, “What are they distributing here?” “Numbers”, he replies. In Berlin’s waiting rooms, where metal and wooden seats are nailed to the ground, people arrive after emerging from the seas. Here they wait.
