A city is not built by architects of sovereigns. It is not a space solely organized by mortar, timber and steel. A city exists for an by all those people that inhabit it. Its body is polished, eroded, injured and lovingly mended by the thousands of feet that step on its pavements, by the myriad of eyes that look through its windows, by the detailed nostrils eager to smell its fragrances, by the tumultuous cacophony of voices and slammed doors, and the endless caress of anonymous hands on its door’s handles.
The city space is shaped by our memories of it, but it also shapes our life experiences. We become who we are depending on where we live. The city’s walls leave an imprint on our bodies.
This collection of portraits is freely interpreted from “walking interviews” conducted with inhabitants of, and with people in love with Valletta. Each interviewee entertains a particular relation with the city of V. to the extent that it becomes an important character in their lives. Instead of speaking about the city of V. and its lovers, I am intrigued by the different cities that exist on the same space for it is evident that none of the people I interviewed live in the “same” city.
– Elise Billiard