
The architecture is stacked. Like Legos in a makeshift playground. It contributes to the charm. City planning is reserved for the areas that either no one visits or everyone visits. Standing on a rooftop; the city stretches like a desert of cubes, wires and DETAILS. This is the beauty of cities like this. Everywhere a small decision has contributed to the view I am taking in. Wherever I look there is a odd story. An unorthodox solution for a cable fitting, a way to feed doves, a spot to read a book.

Athens reads like a Moebious sci-fi. Scribbled with squiggly lines that are easy to appreciate if you look from the correct angle. If you are from here, maybe not so much… The beauty of decay means something else when you are in it. Existing in chaos will make you long for order. The same is true the other way around. For a north European the madness of Athens feels like a weight falling off your shoulders. A backpack filled with starbucks, neat roads and western hegemony.
When people tourist here, they go for this reason (or Akropolis). To them, it’s a chaotic playground that transmit a tingle of excitement. “Maybe here something can happen?” It’s a dream put upon a place from the outside but only possible because of what happens on the inside as a response to life back home.
A location in a state of pure decay instills dread. Athens is not this kind of place. The people you meet live normal lives, engage and have your interests. They watch the same movies and read the same books in school. They walk around well kept and groomed, even more so than most central European countries. Instead of the dead in a graveyard, Athenians seem more misplaced in the situation they inhabit.
I went to a trading card game shop and played some Magic the gathering. It felt like normal. Same lovable nerds I feel most comfortable with. I set out to buy a nut and a bolt at a hardware store to fix a broken chair. I ended up getting it for free. At the local supermarket they know me now.









































