There's more than chemicals, books and a tortured mannequin.

A treasure room with shelves of nameless people that were somehow connected to interprochim. Not just notes, words, tools, clothes ... but grimaces, smiles, attitudes.

We will never know who survived who : the person or the bust. But somehow I have the feeling -by looking at the expression on their faces- that they were aware of the meaninglessness of their act of trying to immortalize their image ...

Who knows, maybe the fate of the person is connected to his image. But that would be too cruel a thought.