A cult of travellers joyously following a trail left behind by an explorer of some other breed, who, it turns out, was in need of some seriously strong fix to satiate his thirsty ambition with ever-deepening love-making. But silly, you must be akin to the trees to not see the beauty of locomotion. An obvious outsider reaches out, they reply with a mirthless nod… the outsider is but an outsider… “You are not welcome here”, says a man without  any intention of moving forward. He digs his own grave unaware that the upward motion has long ceased. The attempt at tower of knowing had long been foiled by the angriest mystery. A man loudly capitalized on the deepest fears and darkest fantasies of all people… won their love and hate alike. Angry people on the streets… passive aggressive television viewers… ROCK N’ ROLL ain’t noise! Wars and riots! War ain’t rock and roll. Riot ain’t rock and roll. A voice screams for revenge! We must kill the killers! But silly, when you’ve killed the killers, you are a killer too. No voice is the voice. Every voice is a voice unto itself. History of the space written in ink, oil, water… art…