In “staubkinder” (children of dust) we let ourselves be carried away into an absurd and confusing world. A world similar to ours, with the critical aspects of the present, today’s complexity and this uncertain space called future. The children of dust are looking for a hold – the ground on which their feet stand is foreign to them. Disturbing and poetic at the same time…

“There is a painting by Paul Klee called ‘Angelus Novus’. It depicts an angel who looks as if he is about to move away from something he is staring at. […] He would probably like to linger, wake the dead and put together what has been shattered. But a storm is blowing from Paradise, caught in his wings and so strong that the angel can no longer close them. This storm drives him inexorably towards the future, to which he turns his back, while the heap of ruins before him grows towards heaven. That which we call progress is this storm.”

O man! Take heed!
What saith deep midnight’s voice indeed?
>I slept my sleep –,
From deepest dream I’ve woke, and plead: —
The world is deep,
And deeper than the day could read.
Deep is its woe–,
Joy — deeper still than grief can be:
Woe saith: Hence! Go!
But joys all want eternity –,
– Want deep, profound eternity!<