“I rarely see her – but she leaves a trace”
Angeliki squats next door in a decaying villa of Exarchia. She is an addict from Piraeus, only 24 years old. We think she is being pimped out by the Afghani who runs the squat opposite. They fight every night and her sobs can be heard echoing in the gap between the densely packed buildings. I rarely see her – but she leaves a trace. Every so often, I see a collection of her processions left out on the upper window sill. Once, I came across a pink dress draped neatly on the scaffolding (that supports her crumbling walls) and a pair of knee-high boots abandoned on the pavement nearby. I rarely see her – but she leaves a trace. Then one day, I see her climb out of the burnt-out window. She jumps down on to our busy street. I watch her strut off, as she squabbles with herself out loud. Her head is held high, defiant and indifferent to all. No one looks around at her.
