You don’t even notice it as you step into the foyer, with a fake Chinese rubber plant and an old cigarette machine to greet you. . .To the right, a big calendar with numbers surrounded by Chinese characters and a feeling of otherworldly claustrophobia.
It all begins here with an utterance, a scrambled item of speech requiring brain time to reconstruct: “Two metres.” Grumbled and garbled, the words issue from a mask. A figure cocks its head autistically sideways. The manner resembles that of a bird, the way it jerks its little skull to look at you with just one eye. Picture that gull eyeing you as you take your lunch on a park bench, the way it indirectly sidles in your direction while you eat. Picture Norman Bates.
