Between 2019 and 2020, I collected my complaints — I noticed I complain a lot. Most of them were about the way meaning slips away from a person or a thing within a given context. It happened on any occasion: while parking my bike, in a toilet, sitting on a train, accidentally high on weed cookies. Each time, I spoke my complaint into a plastic bag, sealed it as best I could, and noted the date and time on it before bringing it home — though some of them leaked on the way. The collected complaints, together with video recordings, became an installation.