Each 20 euro note was given to me by 39 people. In total I have 780 euros collected without being able to spend them. This is money that doesn’t belong to me, money whose value now depends only on their material use. I resist, I need them. They are tiny flags, I spit on them, manipulate them, they are cocaine straws, they pass from one pocket of my jeans to another. On a rooftop among the buildings, I open a zero rate central bank, I face the window cleaners, the cleaning ladies, those who leave the office. I go back and forth, between the voids that surround me and I draw banknote upon banknote like a cowgirl, the
unstable sensation of my precarious money.” Julia Droga.