The city rhythm hit me from all sides, the freedom and dynamic of flowing movement. I saw people going in all directions: toward the city center, to the exhibition halls or a tram stop. Yet when I looked up, my eyes saw a funnel, and in it, scrap of sky. Standing under this fragment of sky I stood on my tiptoes and raised my arms, as if to fly up into the air. When tiredness hit me, at the critical moment, I returned. Over time, this became a fight against gravity. Standing on my tiptoes, I tried to hold the pose for as long as possible and strain as hard as I could toward the sky. Then I fell to rest, and at the same time, my arms returned to my body, only to rise again. The rise and fall...