Nobody gave a shit while it was there, but everybody started bragging when the demolition started. The old communist hotel went down in style, keeping his head up.
It was a screen printing day full of colors. With my friend Tolja of course.
I visited one more time before the renovations began.
Cold breeze of the sleeping concrete serial killer. Vast empty space of interrupted promises.
Humidity. The No.1 essential for decay.
A place of contrasts of light, and contrast of reason. Decided to decay besides the possibility to blossom. A walk on the floor of ashes, dust and grease. Seemingly infinite halls filled with light, and long, dark and humid corridors.
A peculiar triptych, and one unavoidable hanging poster.
Humid tunnels. Darkness in the middle of the day. A silent cold breeze.
Raw salt crystals. It’s eating the steel you can almost hear it.
Walking through the cages of steel and power.