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Definitively, Shrine is not a Gesamtkunstwerk. Lingering over new media grey areas, it is digging into good old synesthesia. It is impossible to ignore industrial and noise influences whose Lino has with his musician past, publishing in the early 90s audiotapes with Le Forbici di Manitù and Kirlian Camera among others. Someone said you cannot step into the same river twice. Shrine is an impermanent writing assembly. Wandering through abandoned industrial sites, collecting data findings on the tracks of a WWI fourteen kilometers cableway, the process is in a constant change, wading across the several streams of History Minor and Non-linearity. Within a Strugatsky Brothers imagery, Shrine tends to splice an audiovisual and otherwise impossible post-anthropocene τóπος. The filmic nature of the multiscreen practice generates its own path from process philosophy to editing cosmogonies and hybrid languages. As in an Artaud’s theatre script, the elements are simple: the environment acting as a system integrator, a few characters, finished states of cruel action. In a camera survelled-like world, the absence of perspective speaks the language of an ancient epiphany, getting the survivor lost into a pareidolic adrenaline rush of stochastic urn processes. His improvised white coverall is making him appearing like a lamb before of a Huldra, or an Ur-Medusa whose hair strands are recalling the branching of a singularity. Victim of an inscrutable design he is a sacrificial concept awkwardly relying upon glitchy inferences, while she is having a sheerly agile Merkwelt in a world of protein-to-protein interactions. We must think, says Donna Haraway. And think we must.