|Madrid 2012. Photo © Simona Rota|
text by Simona Rota*
Is it possible that an (obscure) Commission decided I would live in a very small apartment in a very big city?
Are we, my apartment and I, two species living in symbiosis, yet (only) to the apartment’s benefit?
Is it possible that apartments are using the human species to reproduce, build, communicate, multiply, furnish, clean, warm and reform themselves?
As an adaptive species’ response, would you expect my descendants to stop growing taller due to the low ceiling height of the apartments in which I have lived throughout my life?
Is it absurd to think that the apartment misses me when I am gone?
For whom are the second pillow, the sixth fork and the fourth chair?
What am I supposed to do in the corridor?
Is it too much to ask that the apartment across the street stop staring at my own?
Would I be performing art if I built an ephemeral bridge to reach across the street to the staring apartment, then asked someone to record a video while walking along this thin line: to the end and back again? Would that be considered a generational statement / a feminist one?
If I said that the corners of my apartment were hugs of 90 degrees could I think of myself as an urban poet?
Is it possible that thinness is my body’s adaptive response to the environment of the shower cabin?
Should I not find out if the parcel on which my building is built was an old, cursed (Indian) cemetery? Perhaps this would explain (all) my personal failures?
Is it an exaggeration to say that I am walking on the heads of my neighbors below and that they are walking on the heads of their neighbors below and those on the heads of their neighbors below? Seen in section, we become an almost ridiculous totem.
Why I am unable to climb the apartment’s walls like a spider, an ant, flies, mosquitoes and other creatures that live here ? Is this proof of the inability of my species to adapt to its environment?
When exactly did sharing an apartment stop being cool (independent) and instead become an attribute of a loser (dependent)?
Will I grow old next to (with) my roommate?
Is my apartment a semi public plaza? Should I risk leaving the bathroom door open when my roommate is not at home?
Will I live long enough to see the revolution of the modern apartment? Or did it happen already?