FRAU BURRI

An empty apartment. And yet, it is not empty. The traces of years of smoking tell of its former resident. Pale imprints on the nicotine-stained walls hint at where pictures and furniture once stood.

The apartment doesn’t really feel empty, but still alive. One wonders what kind of piece of furniture once stood in that corner, what kind of pictures decorated the walls. Family photos or rather paintings? The outline of a cuckoo clock? A display case? A wheel? A dollhouse? The thoughts keep wandering. Who was this woman? One imagines her sitting in a large armchair, smoking one cigarette after another. Gazing at the paintings, dreaming of faraway places. Or perhaps lonely and despondent on the kitchen bench, waiting for one day to finally give way to the next. Who this person truly was remains hidden from the viewer, and yet one feels they know her, at least a little.