To communicate? Not much as this story tells. I was in Roamania on a schoolvisit. A visit over a coulple of days to the Carpathian mountains was planned. We travelled in a minibus, schoolchildren, teachers and the driver. The trip went uphill over peaks and down in valleys. Wonderful sceneries. Through old villages. Visiting the city of Vlad Tepes – “Dracul”. Our host had planned an overnight stay in a city in Transylvania. On arrival to the city it was already dark and the snow was the only light. As for the hotel it was locked and no one to see in the reception. After minutes that seemed like hours we finaly got our keyes and entered the rooms – exept for me and the driver. We were the only men and our rooms were not ready and still cold. We got a small space where we spent some time together. Time crept. The driver only spoke romanian and I only english. We sat and we sat. On the bed. Thinking. Finaly I got my self a pen and a small piece of paper. With these tools we began a communication I will remeber all my life. We drew our lifes to eachother. Our families. Our dreams. Our houses, where we lived – we used the arts for communicating when we had no spoken words. I these days when technology is everywhere I often come back to this experiance. I feel safe knowing that if and when technology or by any other reason I cannot speak I always have that other ways of communication – it bacame very clear this day. At last we gor our separate rooms. With a stove and a warm bed.