Disturbance The bench is hard. It’s cracking with every movement. Left to right, you will be shaken, regardless of if that’s what you want or not. It’s packed and smelly. The distinct smell is a mixture of perfume, bubble gum and your bench neighbor, who seemingly has never seen the insides of a bathroom. The smell of alcohol joins the others, silently disturbing your nose in intervals. And there she is; the next perpetrator. She wears a burqa. Black from head to toe, with only a little bit of space to breathe through, she is covered in this sack that does not offer you any insights into her soul. You feel like you can’t breathe. It’s a feeling as if you wore the burqa, not her. To intensify the feeling, she has brought a backpack. The backpack looks filled up, with no space left for any freedom. Not even the insides of her backpack have liberty. You can see her eyes scanning you. You feel naked, because you are not granted the chance to hide behind such an extraordinary pie...