Hardly a gray matter of catching the spirit of our present. From the sun-drenched-ness of the Dubaian atmosphere, to the feathery encounter in a secret printing workshop, words and materials are discreetly—spectrally, outspokenly—put forward: a bunch of residents cruising the seas of nine temporary realities, the result of an ongoing swapping of facts and speculations from the earthly realm. At one end of the spectrum, players, voyagers, entering the machinery (cacophony) of thought processing. At the other, the anchoring point, The Last Resident, one who opens a possible scene.