Thursday, 21 January 2010


A layer of white dust. Dust is everywhere. It will register your presence and make sure you take some forensic evidence home with you. You cannot visit this place unnoticed.  The dust on the floor will capture your echoing steps and irreversibly change its landscape after you stumble over a mysterious dark object on the floor of the gloomy room on the first floor. Move faster and the dust will snow down through the slits in the wooden floor. The walls are trying to hide numerous wounds under a thick layer of dust and are silently shouting at you: "Remember, you have seen us, we have seen you!" Even upstairs, on the second floor, where the lights are bright and everything is freshly painted, the dust finds its way. It lays a thin transparent foil on every surface so it can record your every move. You can almost hear voices asking: "Who has sat on my chair?", "Who has leant against my wall?", "Who has touched my toys?"

Back home I realised how good it feels to live in a house that is not being renovated!

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