AS NATURE FLOWS AWAY

It could not be heard from distance, and yet, when one comes close it is as loud as a shark closing its mouth above the head of a smaller fish, who was too slow to escape the predator's fury. But of course the place I describe knows none of that for real.

But as wooden bricks, which are used as provisory bridges fall prey to the river's attempts to claim its right to exist, only to be again and again brought back up by the area's inhabitants, it becomes obvious that the city, even though it was brought up on the back of wilderness is not going away anytime soon.

This river spoils the vision, projects the land larger than it really is. If you were to stand on the only road by which you could enter here you would think that the church and the abandoned steel factory are miles away from each other, as one is situated diagonally across and away from the other, between them houses with gardens so small, but so widespread that although it is now unimaginable to breed animals here, a little less than half a century ago it was just that: Chickens trained as dogs, each of them only making noise once they are called upon by their name.

The walls are all painted in white, yet each room just a bit lighter than the other and the brownest, most liquid of honeys is locked here behind bars, because when the last century barely started, the house which I describe already existed and was built up to serve the hand of justice.