My House is a Parking Lot
Nuno Serrão
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A tale of greed
For 25 years, I looked at the stars from a cement terrace on this very spot. Today, the cold cement on my back at dawn has turned into a tarred concrete parking lot at my feet, and what used to be my grandparents’ house, where the nights were dark and the sky was closer, turned into a viaduct supporting a kind of highway with secondary road traffic, which skips the valleys and pierces the mountains of the high mountains of the Madeiran capital as if avoiding submitting to the curves of reason and values other than those of concrete and corporate greed.
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All Islands Are Mountains
A tale of an evolving landscape
We are living in the age of multi-tabs, binge-watching, and immediatism. Travelling and arriving faster than ever, we no longer have the time to understand what we are slowly losing. If all trips are made on comfortable shortcuts, what will happen to the question posed out of discomfort? I’m trying to find the answer in the contrasts of the evolving Madeira landscape, where both natural and constructed spaces are gradually being transformed by a new Europe trying to keep up with modern life.