I stumbled upon this question several times. Firstly, it appeared while I studied philosophy in the university, secondly, it re-surfaced in a song by The Last Tanks in Paris (PTVP). I kept on recalling it, thinking of it, and sometimes it even ignited the conversation. Yet, only now, seeing it face-to-face, I realize I am trapped. 

What keeps me wondering is the simple words which comprise the question. This ripped-off clarity (not to be mistaken with modesty), conceived of necessity, makes this question look like a thing that hardly made it past time. As if it is an old building, all ramshackle, yet enduring among generations and the people. Or more like a ship which somehow made it through the fierce storm. What are its origins? Nobody asked this question, it has just appeared from the darkest corner of the world. The letters are lit, yet there is darkness within, it still is. It kicks, pinches and pins, but never lies. It is no tagline, which lies twice: firstly, when it pretends that it leads you; secondly, when you learn that you were misled.

So how does the question work? It seems that it functions like a spell. I use it as a navigation system: three answers serve as pathfinders which instantly address the present, the past, and the future. One can overcome time, taking this thin yet strong lines in one's hands. One has got to follow the traces of this ship; otherwise, the time will dismiss you.

Special project for Ural Industrial Biennale, with support of Artwin Gallery.