Why do we care for writers who don't care for anything or anybody, even not for themselves? Still we need them and feed them, we love them and give shelter. Can it be that at certain moments we would like to be writers and also have this love-hate relationship with the world that writers expose. So when we keep our poets in a special house and observe them like we watch animals in the zoo, listen how they shout and howl their poetry, we are partly freed from our everyday identity and become romantic poetry desperadoes too. Take a closer look at Estonian writers in their private zoo. Their revolts and vanity, philosophy and drinking life style. Cheap accommodation is a way to escape, but it can be a trap too.
