For a couple of years I lived next door to the apartment where Edward Munch used to live. A collective of narcomaniacs live in his old apartment. Every day and every night the narcomaniacs walked outside to scream in the inner yard. A woman that was woo’ing like a wolf, and a man that kept screaming the same words: “åh helvete, åh helvete” (“oh hell, oh hell”). The screams simmered into my dreams and gave voices to different surreal characters. The woman gave voice to a wolf, and the man gave voice to a groin which had a mouth instead of genitals. One night I crawled into the mouth and suddenly dream and reality became indistinguishable.