It is 03:30. Eighties Estonian synthpop is playing on the PA. Tomi is luxuriously sleeping on a brown velvet armchair. Baby water is still flowing. Our fish fell to the floor. I wonder if the original fish is safe? Nobody is answering the phone in our studio. All the booze has drained into The Pit. And it is repeating. We are the last people at a noise gig. The museum will be gone tomorrow, as will Antti. We worked on Sunday. We did not even go into the fish worshipping church. We will all go to Hell. But The Pit will persist.
Our yesterday's press release was quite silly. Now we are in better mental state, but unfortunately nobody asked for a press release. It is 02:04. Tuomas lies on the couch in manner familiar from shock patient treatment, legs raised and knees bent. Accordion music plays on tv. Everything here seems to be playing on repeat. Except curry was cold today. The level of despair has decreased. Trash piles are slowly turning into cathedrals. Horst Knaut detector is ready and fully calibrated. We already have some kind of idea what we will do. But why? Hopefully somebody will come and tell us. Are we heading towards something completely new, or are we simply lost?
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