The museum of one object
A single exhibit, forty square metres, and a guestbook going back nineteen years.
It occupies the ground floor of an ordinary apartment block, and it holds exactly one thing: a wooden loom that belonged to the owner's grandmother. There are no other exhibits, and there never have been.
The effect of a single object in a large empty room is not emptiness but weight. Visitors slow down without being asked to. With nothing to compare it against, the loom stops being furniture and becomes the only fact in the building.
The guestbook is the real collection. Nineteen years of people trying to say what they felt, and almost all of them arriving at the same short sentence in different words.