Demolition

April 26, 2012. Houses were scattered far and wide throughout the Hidalgo y Carrizo lot, along the bordering zones of Lake Texcoco, to the east of its basin, and west of the city that still bears the name of this ancient body of water. Every house occupied its space freely, without a grid, without structure. The houses held together in fragile balance, for they were a grounded assortment of materials and construction techniques: tin, cement, wood, brick, glass, and tarp. Every possible combination was set up in the middle of a vast plateau, lined with patchy, dry grass, dry like the seasonal air. Some had been recently demolished, for clouds of dust hovered over them. Now uninhabited and neglected, these torn huts left mountains of rubble behind them: shattered wooden beams, bricks devoured by the salt in the air, fragmented plaster planks, shreds of cloth, rusty metallic fragments, various kinds of foam, all dispersed yet together enough to be identified as remainders of one single ensemble.  [...]