Since the summer of 2015 I had been searching for the remains of textile factories in the territory of the former GDR. On a small country road I accidentally came across some military barracks, enormous, elongated and abandoned long ago almost hidden by trees and brushwood surrounding them. They belonged to some 10.000 soldiers and their families had been living here on a former air base during the Soviet occupation basically in complete isolation from their surroundings. I jumped the barriers and ran all over the place, immense and silent, soothened by the color of the German autumn.
An eternal hallway of quadrangular section, hypnotizing, with countless rooms on its left and right, displayed in perfect symmetry. I was thinking of those thousands of Soviet families confined into this arquitecture made by a regime measure, not human tailor made, while shooting videos and pictures at the same time. A profound sensation of loss slowly slowly crept over me: the repetitive alignment of space as the loss of individual identity. And the collocation of the rooms mirroring each other as the impossibleness to see yourself reflected in your counterpart. Or the negation of empathy.