Darkness. Only darkness. A woman with a bandaged head wakes up slowly, and the world around her is invisible. Arms and legs are unresponsive, any movement is impossible. Only her breath and heart seem to belong to her.
She suddenly feels a hard surface beneath her, someone moving her. The soft, metallic clatter of the ground informs her that she is on something similar to a wheelchair. Somewhere in the distance, voices reach her - female and male, or perhaps just the echo of her own thoughts. Smells: grease, wood, dampness... mix in her head, but nothing is familiar.
Time passes differently, without reference points. Slowly she begins to feel like an object rather than a person. The elevator lifts her up with a quiet groan. The metal envelops her with cold, and light flickers in the distance that she cannot see. She is moving, but she is not the one deciding the movement. She is being transported, moved, and her own body has become a commodity in someone else's hands.
She was told that an adventure awaited in the old ruins, a fascinating discovery, mysterious corridors and forgotten chambers. However, she never expected that she herself would become part of this adventure, part of this place. Every sound, every smell, every metallic touch of the cart intertwines with the ruins that are about to absorb her. She is no longer an observer - she is part of the labyrinth, inextricably enmeshed in the mystery and darkness of the old walls.
In the dark recesses of an abandoned urbex building, the smell of dust and rust mingles with an aura of mystery. Bound, her body becomes both a tool and a piece of decoration, part of an artistic bondage scene where the line between control and devotion blurs in the shadows of the ruins. Every step of the cart, every rustling of the material around her body inscribes her in the history of the place - not just as an urbex traveler, but as a participant in an unsettling, unexpected performative adventure.