a basement of unfulfilled, unrequited and unearthed dreams. off-date, ill fitting, and irrelevant. scraps of them, falling apart, covered in dust. plagued by cynicism, antiquated dreams that only shine through in retrospective lenses. they are so broke. so broken, sharp edged, cowardly little pieces that cannot regroup that cannot be formed to fit again anything substantial. a room of them. filled to the brim of those soiled dreams and desires that fell off our shoulders into the sewers of time, of life. they're rotten now, and even the animals cannot feed off of them. those come and go with bright dreams to rebuild and salvage what can be salvaged from them. an ad hoc dream machine that stitches together broken hopes and successful failures to create a penultimate dream. scrapped together, cut and paste from everything that ever once was anything significant, retouched, remastered and reinvigorated. make a life of it. rebuilding crushed dreams found in the gutters. they sit waiting to be revisited and reconnected with. poor souls, bits and pieces of lost souls of lost ambitions and desires. fragile they are. crumbling at the slightest of breath, into dust into particles that fill our lungs with every breath. the sad reality and brutal truth of things that have fallen, failed and lost vigour in the face of true circumstances. the dream of rebuilding the romantic ambition of saving all that was lost and reinstating some dignity to those lost in time in brutality and injustice.