What is behind your fences? I couldn’t resist giving it a look …
Gardens and chairs …
Chairs and tables … and other fences:
Chained fences, both iron and plastic ones.
And finally: houses. Now, what might be inside these houses ?
Off the Swiss mountains, piece by piece we fall.
Stocked into private fences, we are broken and worked
and piled up as high as what stores us.
We run in and out, some are left behind
All of us aiming at the final conveyor, to go back there where we come from. Rocks we were, rocks we will always be.
No more tickets for the lake cruise, no more boats stopping by at the pier.
No more panoramic rides uphill, no more red curtains flapping in the wind.
No more touristic menus at the restauran(t), no more joyful queues for the cable car thrill …
No more dives from the pier, no more sunbathing on the pier.
And mo more verboten for the last, forgotten boat. Golden times here in Kehrsiten are long over.
One of these cold summer days I stumbled upon an abandoned bath resort on Lake Lucerne. Abandoned places are hard to find in Switzerland. My curiosity was too high and I went through that red door with the yellow inscription on it: forbidden to enter.
Some doors were locked, some left open, some unlocked. All of them with something in common. Doors without hands on their handles … the cemetery of dead, useless doors.
Copyright 2011-2021 Lorenzo Borghi. All rights reserved
