The blocks were never completely outfitted.
At least this is what the architects tell me.
The interiors, the personal finishes, some of them were left, left unfinished for whomever would inhabit.
In my closet, the only built in closet in the apartment, in the very back, in the dark, hidden from the rest of the anonymously white painted walls, are green flowers. A very specific pattern of green flowers, specific to the era, specific to a certain taste, specific to a specific person, I assumed.
A window into the the original owner, I thought, how well they compliment the aging orange wood closet, the closet built floor to ceiling with no back, allowing this window to be preserved from the lazy maesteri painting over all the previous lives of the panelka.
Pounding rings up from the floor below. The maestera is tearing up the entry, peeling of the plush padding and faux leather that was employed so often throughout these buildings, cleverly used by the dwellers in order to disguise any and all characteristics of the concrete that surrounds them. The padding, now deteriorating from absorbing years of moisture from the poorly ventilated bathroom located off the entry, falls away with little effort. beneath it are flowers, very specific green flowers, which suddenly are not so specific at all.
here begins the quest for the green flowers.
a quest for windows, not to the original owner, but to the original outfit of the panelkas.
what are the layers that cover them?