So, here’s my x-mas gift to my readers. Ok, most of them are quite old [the links I mean, not the readers], but still… Or as my ex-classmate, ex-floormate and friend R. once said: “Do you think that just because we [architects] have no time we can’t think of ways to lose it?”

x-mas_treeSleeper in Metropolis as a graph  |  created with the HTML DOM Visualizer Applet

And of course, not to forget sodaplay, my favourite arch game ever [though the new website sucks].

Pixies

25|12|08

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image credits: Chukumentary

six_million_dollar_man_xmas_adventuresimage credits: dogwelder

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Just came back from a Thermals’ gig. And for some reason I’m shaking. It could be the double espresso (traditionally from Camden’s Hot Rock Cafe) I gulped on my way back in order to be able to finish the work I have to submit tomorrow. Or the fact that I realized I’m flying back to Greece in less than a week. Or both.

I can’t stand the bus these days. I had to walk from Embankment back home. My mp3 player had nothing but some Pulp tracks loaded. It started playing Mis-Shapes in shuffle.

Mis-shapes, mistakes, misfits,                                                                we’d like to go to town but we can’t risk it
Oh ’cause they just want to keep us out.
You could end up with a smash in the mouth just for standing out.
Oh really. Brothers, sisters, can’t you see?
The future’s owned by you and me.
There won’t be fighting in the street.
They think they’ve got us beat, but revenge is going to be so sweet.
We’re making a move, we’re making it now, we’re coming out of the side-lines.
Just put your hands up – it’s a raid yeah:
We want your homes, we want your lives,
we want the things you won’t allow us.
We won’t use guns, we won’t use bombs
We’ll use the one thing we’ve got more of – that’s our minds.

I don’t want to go back to Athens. For the past week I’ve been refusing to listen to the greek radio or open the group e-mails with photos of ‘war scenes’ at Exarhia. It’s not the riots. It’s not the landing. It is the fall. And I was there seeing it happening, only to leave it at the back of my mind. All the phonecalls from friends going on and on about how miserable things are, my best friend’s 600-euro temporary job, the smoke from last year’s fires, the videos about the recent corruption scandals I didn’t watch.
Last night, E. was showing me the photos from Exarhia.

She said: “There is one thing I don’t get. What the hell is this weird mass of objects in the middle of the street? Rubble? Melt objects? Where does it come from?

From the back of our minds, maybe.