“…” In a rather empty room in the Backstreets, a dingy yellow light humming and struggling to keep on, the white-haired puppet swung from strings caught on the fan above her, seemingly motionless, making a creaking sound with every little movement caused by brief gusts of wind. A cluster of eyes remained dormant in her headpiece and one could barely tell that the puppet’s malnourished joints, barely skeletal, were slightly twitching.