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  • Living in Athens in 2002, I used to walk a lot, and one day I started noticing the abandoned houses.
  • They were everywhere.
  • Their shutters were broken or boarded up,
    their walls were crumbling.
  • I asked my friends why such beautiful homes had been left to rot.
  • They said the houses had been too expensive to keep up,
    or had been caught in inheritance battles.

    Meanwhile, they had fallen into ruin.
  • No one cared about the houses. They were condemned.
    So no one noticed when I started breaking in.


    I would climb over fences and walls,
    not knowing what I'd find on the other side.
  • Inside, the rooms were covered in layers of junk.
  • The people who lived or gathered there

    had been students, and then later, junkies.


    There were often fires.
  • In these abandoned places, there was a strange peace.

    As if all human life had vanished.


    And left the sun to shine.
  • But sometimes I was scared by what I found.
  • It was not just things that had been left behind.
  • It was madness.
  • And I wondered,

    where would it go — this madness — when the houses were torn down?
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