That small city has a museum for contemporary art, which has a park around it. And a villa and a tennis court. Most things are of a salmon like, rose like colour. Even the pathways.
I’m looking, I’m looking, I’m looking away.
I don’t remember exactly what’s going on here. It’s probably Berlin. And colours. And Mariam The Believer
In that street where I used to live in Portugal half of the houses where uninhabited. That’s some of them. With curtains and wind. I think we were listening to Peaches.
(this is a reblog)
When I try to make things look like architecture portfolios minus the drafts and sound as if those words were meant for that kind of thing. (2014)Aus: Wir wohnen in einem Hotel, das es nicht mehr gibt (Arbeitstitel)