Was it a dream or a memory? The images are hard to grasp in your mind. You can recall the surroundings, though it feels like you have never been here. Jamais vu, you read about it somewhere. There is a table and on the table food, almost all eaten. Saliva grows soft in your mouth as you stare at this last piece on the plate. It seems to stare back at you. Are you alone? Or are there others? You see men of retirement age, who spend their time watching, with hands clasped behind their backs, offering unrequested advice. You feel like a fool, although you mask it well. You see him enter the room with his straw hat and the bottle of sake. He is walking on rubber eggshells, bringing luck. The hair on your neck stands up when he giggles. When a trickster laughs at you, do you chuckle along or do you grow angry?

Walking On Rubber Eggshells is an oneiric story in seven tracks of time passing and of finding something different than expected.

— Zuzanna Wilska