when cinema kicked me out from home    A friend who was working on the pre-production of a film said this to me:

- Hey, I think your house would be good for filming some scenes in a film.

I said okay. They don’t pay much, but I try to be a good friend and I fancied seeing a film being made in my house. In the scene they were going to film in my house, a woman is shot dead. When they told me it would take them an afternoon to film it, I didn’t realise they would at my house two weeks earlier. To avoid having to agree to meet with them each time they came along, I gave them some keys. So now a bloke I don’t know has keys to my house. He goes to my house without telling me and I have the feeling that my house isn’t mine. Sometimes I feel I have to leave what no longer feels like my house. It’s full of things which aren’t mine. Loads of people I don’t know go in and out. I’m sure that many of them don’t even know who I am. For them, my house is just a backdrop. I had got used to seeing changes around the house each time I got back from work... until today. When I got back to what no longer feel like my house I saw they’d painted the walls green. Green! I don’t like the colour green. And even less so that shade of green. I know that they’ll paint them white again before they leave, but I won’t be able to forget that the Hulk is hiding behind the whiteness, waiting to come out some time...

They gave me a black kitten while preparation was being done for filming at my house and I called her Roma.

They filmed the shooting of the woman in one afternoon.

Cinema’s left my house. They’ve probably invaded somebody else’s house now. Although I saw the woman they shot dead getting up afterwards, I have the feeling that Roma and I are going to be living with the woman’s ghost in this house which cinema stole from us...