(Last visit to my old hause)
8th February, 2021
Since I can remember ancient ruins has always amazed me. This is a current chapter of my lfe which I enjoy being at these kinds of places.
The last time I went to this house in the town where I was born, I walked in it’s gardens. This town is always windy but that day it was so windy that I was almost sliding across the grass. What makes me think that something is happening again when I place myself in this house? -My memory plays tricks on me. I tend to think that I’m experiencing a similar moment, but rather it is the same one. I walk around the rooms inside the house and -I am the child I used to be. Then, how do I know I am the same person? -This place makes me forget who I am.
I realized that the air nearly blew me away that day but it is I who am the air.
If the architecture and gardens at this place were destroyed or radicaly changed, would I experience this feeling of repetition? Just a piece of wall or floor from my hause would be enough for me to make up an alternative history about my past.
I think that’s the reazon why I am captivated by ruins, they are visual tropes.
Text inspired from the short story "La otra muerte" by Jorge Luis Borges.