living in a country where often you‘re isolatet by thick grey fog which suck out and delete all colours of the surrounding, the sheer presence of an object, made for summer customs and therefor also banned after summer has past, is creating a new way of understandig of a situation. we are so adapted to attach certain things with certain moments it feels false and strange, if it’s not in it‘s usuall context. the colors choosen for sun, heat and fun are actualy even more vibrent then in its forseen season. the quietness of a foggy winterday is all the same but somehow slightly kracked.