Limbus

April. Two lines on the test. The long-awaited story, the long-expected event. But as days go by you grow to understand that it’s not only the surface that changes, but also your inner content. Limbus – the border between past and future. Kind of a waiting area at an airport. Neutral waters in an ocean where no state laws exist. But there are other laws instead, the ones nobody warned you about. You do not belong to yourself anymore, and at the same time you can’t understand who it is you belong to. A permanent stopover without any movement. You don’t know what’s going to happen next. Everyday situations make you stumble. Your reaction to most usual things is now unpredictable. The body goes through a strange metamorphosis every day. You look in the mirror and can’t see yourself. All you can see is a transformed shadow of yourself. What awaits you is not clear. For the time being, it’s limbus.