Sometimes I startle myself and do it in such a way as if I started speaking from the middle of a sentence, like when I find out who I am in the morning because I recall that I went to bed before. I feel simply, I trust the twilight, silence, one or two things put aside that have not got swept away. It is not the end yet. Evening draught moved the curtain calmly and showed me something that trickles, something that creases, slightly propelled by sound, and to find a story in it (a way to leave out all accidental) means a step to the side. Black places remain black so that we can see that looking into darkness is different from closing one’s eyes. – “Můžu tu zůstat přes noc? To se mi nezdá. Podívej se za záclonu. Že bych si to spletla?“ – She doesn’t know what to say, she’s looking for words, she recalls images; she doesn’t want to be illustrative. Sometimes she’s startled and does it in such a way as if she were a cinema ticket, torn to pieces.

Věra Lukášová (Untitled, live re-edit, 2004, 6 min., http://carpetscurtains.fiume.cz/vjing.html)