The Bizarre Wall — Standing Before What You Cannot Control

Opening the door, Alona is on full alert. She just stands there trying to convince her legs to move. So that is why her parents would always have a Magix battle to teach their children how to protect themselves. She is greeted by a slowly dimming room with a fake sunrise. In the center of the room is an L-shaped mountain of clothes, with a babbling brook in the middle. One of the shoes falls from the mountain, and Alona yelled for a protection spell — 'Termina' — closing her eyes. A glass shell appears to protect her, but nothing happens: no boys, no attack. The babbling brook quickly fills the room with water, and Alona giggles as the bubbles shoot out of her mouth and crawl up her cheeks. A few seconds later, the room turns into a desert. A fire of sparks streak past her from a mountain peak. One hits a cactus; it transforms into a table. A second spray of sparks hits a rock; it transforms into a soda maker and a birthday cake. Alona avoids the sparks with several cartwheels and jumps into a backflip, then lands, sticking her tongue out and says: 'You missed, now it's my turn.' Summoning a lightning bolt, Alona splits it into ribbons and shoots them at the boys. As she turns to look at her reflection, she primp her hair, noticing the cake and the table. Startled, her eyes were filled with tears. Realizing her defeat, she cancels the spell and drops her wand, knowing she would be electrocuted. She ran up to her twin brothers and gave them a big hug. 'I love you too,' she says. This is the bizarre wall. The wall does not tell you who you are. The wall changes everything around you — the cactus becomes a table, the rock becomes a cake, the room becomes a desert — and through the changing, you are changed too. Not because the wall made you change. Because the wall made changing possible. The wall is the gallery. The artworks are the sparks. The visitor is Alona. And through the standing before the wall, through the choosing what draws you, through the watching how you move, the visitor is transformed — not into someone else, but into a clearer version of who they already are, inside the body they walk around in.