In October 2001, I was looking for accommodation and found something on the top floor of that house. On the lower floors were therapy practices, while at the very top were some substandard rooms with shared toilets down the hall. I had been living here for a year when our acquaintance went beyond just saying hello and carrying shopping bags upstairs. My two room neighbours showed me great cordiality and openness right from the start, and they were completely normal, no freaks or anything. So it was often very cosy to sit over there, talk, watch TV, drink beer.
I was invited to participate in her life, in a world I didn't know, and without reservations, taking the pictures was never an option, I was simply the boy who takes pictures. Many photos. The condition of the room was that of its inhabitant, it could no longer be saved. So it was in the summer of 2003 when I found him having a stroke, lying in his excrement on the floor of his room.
His room was cleared out straight away, it was clear that he wouldn't make it here on his own. But he turned out to be tough, weeds don't spoil, and it's amazing how he managed this turn.
We still meet occasionally, I visit him in his new room and she in her old one, sometimes he drops in on her too.
I am very grateful to know these two people.
Linz, 15 February 2005