SO MANY HOUSES, SO MANY STORIES IN ANOTHER HOUSE: WELCOME
Alek O., born in Argentina
Did you notice them? Did you see them? If you were barefoot you would feel them under you. With hard bristles, on which hundreds of soles have been wiped, thousands of feet have waited. Maybe you are waiting for someone to open the door, maybe you are looking for your keys in your bag. If you have passed over the threshold, you are not outside, but you are on another threshold. Suspended, not knowing what lies beyond. In an interior, with a shift that is your first disorientation, as when you enter an area where something is out of place. Something that is no longer itself, but which conserves almost everything of itself: form, colour. Another function, certainly. It tells its own story, in another place. Now, it retains something of your footprints, of your passage.
