The demolition site of the athletes’ accommodation from the 2024 Paris Olympics was buzzing with a strange energy. Workers, standing amid the rubble, sighed as they surveyed the walls of the crumbling building. The once pristine white walls had been transformed into a chaotic canvas of graffiti, left behind by frustrated athletes.
“Look at this,” one worker said, gesturing at a particularly bitter message scrawled in red: “Goodbye pigpen.”
Another chimed in, reading aloud another angry scrawl, “Shitty judging.”
“I’ll never compete in the Olympics again,” one more scribble proclaimed, the resentment practically dripping from the ink.
The walls told stories of disillusionment, frustration, and exhaustion. “Thanks for the awful food,” one grumbled, while another sarcastically declared, “The IOC is stingy.”
Perhaps the most unusual one read simply, “Macron, run.” A clear jab at the French president’s political challenges in the wake of the nation’s parliamentary deadlock. Another odd entry confused the group: “Where’s Zagitova?” one read, a curious reference to the famed Russian figure skater, Alina Zagitova.
Among the most controversial was a bold “Go Hamas,” which silenced the group for a moment.
As the workers debated taking photos of the bizarre messages, the International Olympic Committee (IOC) suddenly arrived, collecting their own evidence. They took detailed photos of everything, documenting what was left behind before the building came down.
One worker, exploring deeper into the accommodations, found something even stranger—a lipstick kiss mark on a fogged mirror in one of the shower rooms. He whistled, “Who left that?”
“Who knows?” another replied. “The cabinet’s been out for 11 weeks, and a lot of strange things have been happening in France.”
The conversation returned to the strange political climate. With the new government finally in place, led by Prime Minister Michel Barnier, maybe some of the tension would start to ease. The recent weeks of political uncertainty had affected everything, from national policy to daily life. The workers shared their own frustrations as they continued tearing down the last remnants of the once-bustling Olympic village, now reduced to rubble and memories.
“Time to move on,” one of them sighed, lifting his hammer for the final blow.
All names of people and organizations appearing in this story are pseudonyms.
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