A bittersweet gloaming from the darkness. The clay seems at once so wet and so dry, cracking at the seams and sluicing down drains. As a short film it is a wonderful evocation of the lost sights and smells of a Josefov. The fact that the film only exists as a trace of a theoretical film Barta never got to make appositely (and tragically) reflects what has been lost. A keenly felt & thought adaptation of Meyrink.