Washed with light, a decaying place that used to heal.
A peculiar triptych, and one unavoidable hanging poster.
Climbing up to the Hoxha’s five-point star. It casts light into lowlight.
Old teachings sleeping in decay. Sometimes the light visits.
Humid tunnels. Darkness in the middle of the day. A silent cold breeze.
Fragments of things that decay in time.
Decay. Mud, rust, humidity and raw salt. Vast artificial landscape. Bird sanctuary.
They left in a hurry, in the middle of experiments and a cup of tea.
Raw salt crystals. It’s eating the steel you can almost hear it.