This spring, colorful mistletoe wreaths have bloomed overhead in Skersvėjis. Not from the forest — from imagination. Created by designer and artist Julia Janus, they hang above the Skersvėjis passageway as if they had always been there — as if the wind had carried them in, forgotten to take them back, and decided: let them stay. By day, they quietly watch who passes by, who hurries, who stops. By evening, they begin to speak in colours. About closeness, about unexpected encounters, about how the most beautiful things usually happen when you expect nothing at all — like that cat on the windowsill in an Užupis courtyard. They say you should kiss under mistletoe. I say, in Jonas Mekas’ Skersvėjis — all the more so.