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  • I used to live here... On the second floor.

    A friend had called me, she'd seen a "for rent" sign on the street, picked up the phone number. So I called the owner, and he tells me : "you know, it's just by the construction site of the museum"....
    The next morning Z. and I were visiting the flat. Nice, big flat. We walked the long corridor to go to the bedroom and office, and there it was... Standing big... "The Rock", the Acropolis, the Parthenon.
    And this humble man, instead of trying to sell this view for a high price, was lowering it because of the construction site, that was no more than few archeologists removing dust with their brushes, and remained so for many years, as legal fight was delaying the beginning of construction.

    This was exactly what I was seeing for years, up to the last moments, when, as I was seated at the desk, she entered the room and I simply said: "I'm going to leave".
    The building was eventually destroyed years later, and the museum built.

    Here I am now, on the second floor of the museum. It took me two years to finally come here.
    Archeology of self.
    Here stood a life gone, with no trace, no physical remains. No block of concrete, no broken plate.
    A place of memory was built on the erased building, leaving no witness to my own life. Fragments of a far past get mixed with my own ghosts, as I walk around...

    If you ever go to Athens, and to the Acropolis museum, you will know that there used to stand the address Hatzichristou 11. That I lived and loved there.

    Out on the street, the music goes on...
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