(TRANSLATION)
He has learned that, according to a lot of people, Walworth does not exist. He tells them where it is and still they do not believe him. But it is a place, an in-between place, on the way to and from lots of other places.
People and buildings disappear rapidly in Walworth. This is possibly because Walworth itself is disappearing: a neighbourhood called ‘South Central’ is moving in to take its place. This is making it more difficult for him to prove the existence of Walworth to those who do not believe in it.
Despite its dynamism, its cleanliness and its modernity, ‘South Central’ is subject to temporal confusion: in the few remaining streets of 19th-century terraced houses, brand-new Victorian-style street lights are proliferating.
But then Walworth has, perhaps, always been less certain of itself than it at first appears. Near his house, it is not unusual to see the old street names holding on, etched permanently on to the sides of buildings. Even though they have been here fifty, sixty years, the new street names can still feel like aliases.
Walworth is definitely home, but when he considers it too carefully, it can make him feel peculiar, thin. It, like him, is out of place: it, like him, is out of time.
People and buildings disappear rapidly in Walworth. This is possibly because Walworth itself is disappearing: a neighbourhood called ‘South Central’ is moving in to take its place. This is making it more difficult for him to prove the existence of Walworth to those who do not believe in it.
Despite its dynamism, its cleanliness and its modernity, ‘South Central’ is subject to temporal confusion: in the few remaining streets of 19th-century terraced houses, brand-new Victorian-style street lights are proliferating.
But then Walworth has, perhaps, always been less certain of itself than it at first appears. Near his house, it is not unusual to see the old street names holding on, etched permanently on to the sides of buildings. Even though they have been here fifty, sixty years, the new street names can still feel like aliases.
Walworth is definitely home, but when he considers it too carefully, it can make him feel peculiar, thin. It, like him, is out of place: it, like him, is out of time.
