Many of my postings have dealt with that uncomfortable feeling, half way between disgust and envy, of living in a town where conspicuous consumption provides the main means of employment. There is, however, an older, humbler side to the town, albeit one latterly invaded by second-homers and twee renovators from northern climes.
Much of the old town consists of fishermen's houses, basically tall buildings with just one room on each floor. The problem with these houses was stability, they tended to lean towards each other alarmingly, as the lateral forces of the roof were not redirected and contained by adequately oriented beams in the floors and ceilings. To counter this sideways tendency, and relying on the close proximity of other buildings, the inhabitants jerry-built flying buttresses from one house to another. This is a partial view of a lane which counts more than a dozen such repairs.
Many streets in Antibes have their resident beggar, who sleeps rough, accompanied by a pack of mangy dogs and an all-pervading stench of fermenting urine. The present consumer society does not seem to know what to do with them, even when they faecally occupy the doorsteps of shops, offices and residential buildings. It seems this is not a new problem. The plaque in the other photo intimates that the business of ignoring the indigent is not new, and hints at a truism which says that the very need for moral reminders is itself a sign of general neglect.
Aucun commentaire:
Enregistrer un commentaire