I'm sitting in the middle of the room on the carpet. The expensive sofa behind me in front of the carpet is doused with strawberry juice and the covering is crumbling. Candy wrappers are scattered all over the room, as a sign that the flies liked it here. My hands are still covered in strawberry jam and the flies are swarming in them singing a song to me and I'm glad of it. But then they all flew away. I thought they loved me, but it turned out they were bored without sugar. And suddenly I found myself in a room where every corner was alien to me, and the candy wrappers looked more like tickets to a party that they had forgotten to invite me to. The sugar mask should crack...