The most astonishing is the size. We should expect something really huge, an enormous complex of giant production halls connected and surrounded by a monstrous labyrinth of offices, corridors, staff rooms, technical spaces of not clear, or not clear for everybody, function… Instead we can see a modest, simple attic. One. Only one. Not connected with any other attics, to say (and write) nothing of the telephone and the net, but the telephone rings quite rarely, and the net can not be accused of suffocating and paralysing the body transforming it into a dried empty little corpse that dangles at the slightest move of the air. Not so very high is this attic. If one big man climbed the shoulders of another big man and raised his hand he would probably touch the plank covering the ridge beam, and if he didn’t touch it, he would miss it a little. So, the height doesn’t make us dizzy, the voice does not whirl under the distant almost imperceptible vault and does not fall down with a rumble echoed many times. The length does not shock either: a dozen of steps is enough to go from one window to another. Let alone the width: only four steps are enough. Absolutely normal, average steps. Of course, these measures refer to the central part of the attic. The whole attic is divided into three parts. The middle one is much narrower than the side ones, and all of them put together make a square. Almost a square. That’s good. A regular square would be too perfect – perfectness is warmly welcome here, but is not desired for any price. Nothing is perfect, let alone everything. The first part, the entrance part, is a place where you can see and touch, read and learn everything. It’s enough to go up, to climb, yes, the word climb is more convenient, the abrupt, ladder-like stairs; some visitors suspect, although they never said that loudly, maybe even never thought that silently, the stairs are so uncomfortable and dangerous to cause fatal accidents that would make many visitors take to the grave a mystery of everything – many of a few, crowd’s can be seen here very rarely, nevertheless nobody has had an adventure of that kind so far, which means all can take mysteries of everything away; the conditional would be able suits better, if they remembered them and could repeat them, usually they are not willing to do so, delights are enough since delights cost nothing and pledge to nothing… So, the first part is a kind of gallery, reading-showing room, parlour, a place for meetings, discussions, lectures, exhibitions, presentations, not often, not many, we have to admit. There is a long white (the white colour seems to be important, but nobody knows why, nobody has ever asked why it is white) table, or a narrow worktop on simple small wooden stands. At the walls, parallel to the table, various shelves are standing with many parts of everything on them. Well, probably this is not the best solution. Everything should be shown as a whole, so preferably in the centre of the parlour, where there is more room and people don’t have to lean due to the sloping surface of the roof. There is a concern that, firstly, everything as a whole could not be perceived and comprehended, secondly, everything can never be presented as a whole because new and next parts of it are being constantly produced and added. However it may seem bizarre, everything keeps growing, there is more and more of everything. Yes, everything is very complicated, very complex, and it’s not easy to cope with it. The second part, the one on the other side of the central part, has the same size as the first part, but it is a bit less important, although the hierarchy is not so significant, indeed. It’s hard to define what is the function of this room. It’s called library, because there is a library in it; some say it’s huge and impressive, the others that it’s quite normal, just a very small piece of the Great Library of Everything. Maybe it would deserve the name memory, or imagination, or archive, or files, or even thought dump, but these would be only approximations which wouldn't approximate at all. How about a store of thoughts? No, no. You go there and take a book for reading and that’s all. This is not a store of spare parts of everything. This is a place to sit for a while in the rocking chair, so maybe rocking room would be more adequate name than library? It’s nice it is right here, at hand, one step away, however it could be in any other place and the factory would keep on working. Maybe better, maybe worse, who knows. It won’t be so symmetrical as it is, that’s right. The side parts as if embrace the main, central part, protect it like a cocoon, thus create something that can be regarded as harmonious unit. Is this feeling, this impression of harmony, influenced by the fact that the main part is situated exactly on the north-south axis with the talking room to the east and the rocking room to the west? There are four windows, one in each direction. The south and north windows are horizontal, the east and west windows are vertical. Has this any meaning, is this of any importance? What is in the point where two axes cross each other? Emptiness. Nothing. Or everything. An aperture should be above it – the zenith. But it is not. The chimneys are on both sides, symmetric, but the hole in the roof, a sort of skylight, is in the place which can be defined easily as any – any, what does it mean? Is the world so failed and unsuccessful, so mean that it deserves anyness? Chaos instead of order? And the lack of the nadir hole – what does this mean? What a turbulence, what a turbulence... These are but trifles, but some people pay attention just to such trifles and consider them fundamental features crucial to the success of the factory. In case of this factory they should rather think whether such spatial arrangement guarantees a defeat. So, maybe the entire complex should be turned 90 degrees right? Why 90 degrees and why to the right? Why not to the left and why not 21 degrees? Degrees and directions are not the point. No. Never. The view from the window is the point. Yes. Ever. Always. This gardenwood and verydarkgreen, almost deepnavyblue hills behind and above it. This thick carpet of browngold leaves covering the ground and grass in the winter which is no more winter. This blackbird plucking wilted wrinkled grapes with its psychedelic orange beak. These are the points. Yes, they are. Oh yes! There are tables by the windows, near the windows. The tables in the south part of the tram (the central part of the attic can be called tram, why not), more mental part, are standing along the walls and are made of simple wooden boards. The tables in the north part of the tram, more physical, less mental, are parallel to the window: a bit closer to it the old, heavy piece of furniture with no decorations, no profile curves; a bit further from it the sapphire worktop on simple wooden stands. Why sapphire? Is it a symbol or a random choice which turned out to be a nice and right colour accents in this muted interior? Under the tables there are materials to produce everything. On the tables there are machines and tools to produce everything. Some of them are very sophisticated, though it won’t be difficult to find more enhanced ones; the others are very simple, even primitive, though more primitive ones could be found, too, though not that easily, the progress in primitiveness is much slower than the progress in enhancement and sophistication. There are simple shelves along the walls where prototypes, mock-ups and ready copies of new parts and pieces of everything are stored... What else? Well, some rubbish, some lamps, a huge wicker basket for trash, a vertical ladder to the turbulent hole in the roof covered by a bit crumpled and distorted lid – you can climb there and put your head out and above, go out and above, be above… Well, all together nothing special, really... <<<