I spread out my personal notebook on a base. The spectators are able to turn the pages while looking at the video projected on the notebook. There are my projects, the drawings of some persons i know.

I write my dream of being an eagle in my notebook with a projector, repeating them over and over. But no matter how many times I write, it doesn't leave a trace on the notebook. The appearance of one word after another, and the sudden disappearance at the end, made me wonder if all my efforts, all my words and actions are in vain? This feeling of helplessness and loneliness that haunts everything around me.