He rides through streets melted by the sun, where people, flowers and quarrels flow like paint. The stones caused him to stumble, and the invisible interrogators pressed him with violence. The old house is getting cleaner and cleaner, the bells ring unchanged, and the TV is covered with a white cloth. His mother pushed him to the dining table. Two bowls of pink and white bone soup were already cold. He lowered his head to look at the soup noodles, and his consciousness was pushed into the bowl by the sound. He lay on his back in the soup, with his broken head next to the spoon. The family here becomes a cage made of sounds, smells and memories, where reality constantly melts and solidifies, eventually sinking into one's own soup bowl.
Purpose: Talking about the invisible violent quarrels in life and the world