Transcript of the voice over in the video.

The house I live in looks like an ordinary cottage, but like an iceberg an enormous castle hides beneath the ground. I have never been in all the rooms.

When you are alone in a basement it is as if the normal rules of life cease to exist. The borders between outside and inside close in on each other, there could be vampires here. All the perspectives are wrong, as if the basement is breaking its own laws. I know the salt mine in Krakow, gigantic caves with white semi transparent salt sculptures, crystal chandeliers and cathedrals, a subterranean lake and a symphony orchestra. Or were they allowed to play in the mine? Perhaps the wonder might cave in? Sometimes it is hard to know what you have heard and what you have made up yourself.

Things are not always what they seem. In the old DDR the police hid cameras inside of birdhouses and collected people’s smells in little jars. I am uncertain of everything, don’t know what to expect when I can’t trust common sense anymore.

What if all basements are attached, like mycelium under mushrooms? Is it still me living here or have I walked over into someone else now? Can others become part of my world without me letting them in first? The fear of being alone is based on a fear of not knowing ones surroundings and a suspicion of having to cope without help.

Where does the light come from?

Sometimes memories come back to you with such power that you lose the attachment to the time and space you exist in.

I was falling asleep when I woke up dreaming that my alarm clock had rung. I had dreamt that I was awake and when I fell asleep I woke up.

The sink was blocked. It glittered in the mud, real pearls, a whole necklace. There used to live an old lady here. What if there were more things of value hidden? With the flashlight I examined the wallpaper to see if there were thousand kronor bills glued underneath. Everything I found I put in a pile on the kitchen table. When the entire room was sliced and forced open I sat on a chair in front of the mound of riches and didn’t quite know what to do. I couldn’t escape the feeling of having raped the room. In the end I put the pearls back into the sink. The money ended up under my mattress for lack of a better hiding place. I couldn’t bring myself to do anything more but simply lay down with my clothes on, pulled the covers over me and went to sleep. When I woke up I felt how uneven the bed had become. I didn’t know what time it was or what day. Then I turned on the light and saw the wallpaper hanging in strips from the walls. I decided to close the door and to never use that room again. It was a relief not having to think about it anymore. That room didn’t exist, there was only a door that I wouldn’t open. I understand why there are treasure chambers.

Down here I have neither day nor night. No such rhythm to let myself be guided by. In total isolation everything is possible. But I want to know front from back, up from down, I want to understand the labyrinth of pathways. Even though I don’t have a set goal I want to move forward. I dialled a number on my cell phone, wanting to know if there was any transmission down here. A constant sound of static. For a long time I listened to the ocean through my telephone. Silence took a deep breath.