Salon Kosagovskaya

The city breathes beneath the blanket of debris from the past. The rubble of the buildings overlooking the port, which collapsed during the bombing, were to show their skeletons for years and years. Some, without the main facade, look like dolls’ houses, open at the front to give little girls the opportunity to play by moving their tiny dolls between one room and another. In this way the buildings on Via Marina reveal to passers-by traces of an old domestic intimacy. Rooms with three walls left miraculously standing, peeling or covered with torn wallpaper, dramatically reveal fragments of life interrupted: in one corner an armchair nibbled by mice, on the floor a worn mattress and even a chandelier that hangs over the now long-gone dining table.