Sunday, April 18, 2010

a patina of memory or a story told in silence

The greasy but neat linoleum, stone? Green glass covered lights make for an atmosphere of moisture despite the dryness in the air. The residents match the décor, nothing changes, and a particularly ornery sentiment pervades the hall.

Each neighbor plays their role easily, after decades of bickering, drama is theatrical and perfunctory. The elevator stands unused in the stairwell, stubbornly disused? The owners of the gelateria below hurry in and out of their flat all night long. I don’t think they’ve slept in three months. Wires, pipes, gas, telephone, all strapped to the walls that predate such conveniences, run in the crotch between wall and ceiling.

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