It is winter. I am standing by a snowy highway somewhere in the United States. Behind me is a building that seems like a mall with restaurants, however, it seems quiet there and most places are closed. It is dark outside, perhaps early evening, and a group of icehockey players are approaching in full gear. They are about to cross the road to go to the open air icehockey-rink that I can see from where I stand. I know that there are some icehockey players from F and I want to interview them. I walk up to one of them and ask him what it is like to play hockey here. He tells me that he is trying to get used to living here - he says that 'the living part still takes up most of the time'. I ask him if he would agree to let me observe him and interview him, that I am actually developing this method to help people adjust and that I might be able to give him some good ideas about how to deal with things. I am making all this up as I go along and am both baffled and impressed at my coping skills. Obviously it is really important to me that I connect with this man. He looks at me but says nothing. Then he turns away, crosses the road and goes to his hockey practice. I feel disappointed that he didn't answer or say anything. On the other hand he didn't either say no.

I walk into the mall and see an escalator. Inside the mall a small countryroad is coming to a fork. I see a police officer arrest someone and he is putting handcuffs on the arrested person. I need to pass the officer but am indecisive about what to do. I move a little closer and move my hands in a 'what do I do now' way so that the officer can see me. He does not react but continues instead to hold down the suspect. Now I notice another suspect to the right of me. He is handcuffed as well. I see thick plastic handcuffs. They are light blue. I turn around and am now standing in the mall again, this time nearby a closed restaurant of some kind. A woman is standing here. She rushes off to stop a man, and she arrests him! She puts handcuffs on him. Now that I look around, I see people in handcuffs scattered here and there. They are all criminals! Or are they? I am afraid. The woman is again nearby and she motions for us to move away. We have to pass a man who is sitting on a chair. The small woman presses herself up against a wall to avoid being touched by him, and she succeeds. Now it is my turn. I know he will attempt to grab hold of me. He seems like a drifter, who has no shame in his body. I hesitate and then, as quickly as I can, I move past the man. Of course I cannot entirely escape his hand, and I feel him grab at my pantleg. I feel my glove-covered hands hit his hands to get rid of them while an increasing fear is taking over. I move toward the door, the exit. I want to be held by comfort. I wish someone would stand there who would bring comfort. I open the door into the night, open my arms and fold them around the man who stands there. Warmth.