As seen on the slides. A poem on containment

(2021)

On a regular Saturday with not so much to do we found a box full of slides on a cupboard. My friend had just moved to that apartment a few months ago, a really tall panel building surrounded by derelicted two storey houses in a not so well reputed neighbourhood. The apartment was rented by an environmental association in order to host international volunteers like my friend. Itt had only two rooms turned into bedrooms, so there were no other shared spaces than the kitchen and the bathroom. Even if the tenants were changing at least once a year, forgotten objects from previous inhabitants mixed with all the many traces left by the owners, as if they had left it behind in a rush.
I remember how long it took to get to the 11th floor, especially on the days where the elevator was not working. It was easy to get lost in the corridors, among all those extra fences many owners add to their doors for security, or perhaps just to ventilate their apartments during the summer.
Even with all the apparent inconvenients, we used to hang out in that apartment a lot. I liked to take pictures of the views, as there was something poetic about those cranes erecting new buildings while everything around seemed to be crumbling down. On the horizon: some landmarks of the city. 
So we found a box full of slides, and a few more after. We found the projector and the screen. We stepped into the privacy of a family. 

Part of the final project of IMMA Summer School 2021 - Art & Politics: Containment