I was inspired by this idea to recreate this sensation of the hold, the sensation of
a voice drowning in the noise of the engine room and efforts to hear the "voices" despite the noise. It's as if you have cultural otitis, as if your ears are buried; you hear sounds coming from above, but you have a rather painful background. Everything creaks, grinds and buzzes all the time, filling this cramped space with a rumble.

The bass, as a worker from the boiler room (the "voice" of the lower floor), tries to reach the violin - the noble "voice" of the upper floor. Instead of the "strings" of the piano we hear the creaking of taut cables and the hum of the engine room.