Here, near the Galpon site, we throw trash to hell, send it by ship to no matter where. Accidentally, we throw this place to trash, sending it to hell also, simply because it is an end of a road, what we wrongly call dead-end, is, in fact, human’s end of inspiration to give continuity to their objects, simply trying to hide it underwater or in a big whole. This place has a potential, we do not want to see it. Everything we try to hide seems like a mistake. This place seems like a mistake: hidden in the depth of a road, so we cannot see it from the beautiful Geneva. Like if it wasn’t enough that it is condemned to stay in the dark.
Things never come to an end. We know it, everything is a cycle.
Is this wooden structure a space recycling machine? So sad to see something arriving at an end, it was a lovely thing, we don’t want it to go away. We refuse to let it go, we gave this space a second life, not just in our hearts.
Even moving inside, when I cross a door, it is never the end of a space and the birth of another. They all are linked, in this same idea of continuity. There is no need for walls to make a door, doors are directly made in used elements, like the stairs of the tribune. Those serve to stand on it, and define different space, in addition to serve the transition.
And even if all of this really is about an end, at least we give it some dignity, showing it some respect. A humble and beautiful end.