The museum guide stood in front of a wall filled with the highest and most intelligible of all historical works of art, which oscillated between reason, religion, dreams and mathematics. In an almost ritualistic gesture, she raised her arms while her gaze fixed on the audience. Her face was filled with an almost holy seriousness as she began to speak.

"This painting in the style of expressionism deals with the ambiguity of anthropocentric perversion peripheral to an abstract-vulnerable understanding of substance in Spinoza's sentiments."

The visitors nodded as if they had understood these words, but in the eyes of some there was already a silent confusion. An elderly couple stood with furrowed brows, the woman with her head slightly tilted forward as if she could gain a deeper insight through the sharpness of her hearing. A young man in a suit pretended to write something down, but his pen remained motionless on the paper.

The museum guide was not deterred by this, her hands gliding through the air like conductor's batons as she turned to a second work.

"This work, in turn, located in the school of Surrealism, describes the constitutive allodoxy of contemporary milieus in silhouettes of ostracized granodience."

A visitor cleared his throat and pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders, as if he could protect himself from the incomprehensible. A woman with narrow glasses nodded eagerly, her lips moving silently as if she were repeating the museum guide's words like a mantra.

The leader’s voice became louder, her euphoria increased:
"That specimen, of the Cosincian species, now reflexively refines the observer's antipathy in idiosyncratic agony of frivolous constellations in eroprysian phoresy."

The group was clearly trying to follow the words. Some nodded eagerly as if they had understood the meaning, while others tried hard not to look too confused. A man with grey temples furrowed his brow as if he were trying to solve a mathematical equation. A young couple held hands as if this contact would protect them from the incomprehensible.

The museum guide continued walking, her movements becoming more fluid, almost dance-like, as she pointed to the next picture. Her eyes shone with excitement, the words bubbled out of her mouth like waterfalls.

"This Mennomum now, a contemptuous parody, distorts, quite contradictorily to the divergent, the fatness in the convulut rolehrer Badenochen."

A quiet murmur went through the group as an older man cautiously plucked up the courage: “Excuse me… are you serious?”

The museum guide threw back her head and looked at him grimly, but strangely detached, before she laughed out loud. A bright, almost childlike laugh that echoed through the room. Her eyes glittered as if she had made the greatest revelation of all.

“Continue to melt in the wild of the Goränäen emäenäenäen, hulululuulululu… GARM!”

Suddenly something seemed to break. The museum guide began to wander aimlessly through the room, her arms stretched out like a baboon and bent low, her movements becoming hectic and confused. She raised her hands, turned in circles, her words turned into meaningless sequences of sounds while she laughed incessantly and hit the air with loose fists as if she wanted to grab the atmosphere and tear it apart.

At the same time and instantly, as if following an unholy magic formula, the visitors also fell into a collective madness. One began to run in circles, his steps echoing like the ticking of an invisible clock. A woman dropped her coat and did somersaults across the room. Others clapped their hands, jumped up and took off, even flew and landed hard. Some began to babble incoherent words with exaggeratedly serious faces, while others let out shrill laughter.

A man sat down in the middle of the floor, his hands pressed to his temples, muttering an endless series of "blah blah blah." An elderly woman danced as if possessed by an inner music, her movements chaotic and beautiful at the same time. Two visitors stood back to back, alternately shouting incomprehensible words and finally gesticulating like mute clowns.

The scene lost all order, becoming a seething chaos of senseless noise and movement, while the room gurnaaaaaaaaaa in rushki, grummidi of the most incomprehensible ecstasy... BOOM!

Big Squeeze.