“The Vanishing Sign: Who Decides What We Remember?

Pauline together with a local citizen, have just cleaned the surface!

Here is a faithful, polished English translation, keeping the reflective and questioning tone of the original:

Several years ago, in the 1990s, the 2nd General High School of Polichni was particularly active in initiatives related to the local park. At a time when environmental education was only beginning to gain institutional recognition, students and teachers actively participated in a state-funded program, leaving a meaningful and tangible imprint on the public space.

As part of that initiative, within the former Karatasou military camp—today known as Karatasou Park, and for us, the Park of Omens—wooden staircases were created, along with green areas planted with flowers and the distinctive small hill known to everyone as the “turtle.” This natural formation was suitable for student performances, play, observation, and gathering: a small open-air space of culture and learning, located just to the right upon entering the park. It was not merely a construction; it was the result of research, study, collective effort, and genuine care for the environment.

As a mark of honor, a signboard stood in the area for many years. A simple yet meaningful marker of memory, it documented the students’ work, their research on the park’s birdlife, and the study and construction of the wooden steps—so that one could climb onto the turtle’s shell. The sign served as a reminder that public space can be the product of education, participation, and cooperation.

This year, nearly three decades later, that thread seems to continue. The 4th Primary School of Polichni is planning, in the context of World Environment Day, to organize a musical, dance, and theatrical performance at the same location, together with other schools. The “turtle” becomes a stage once again. The space is once more filled with children’s voices, movement, and art—a silent testament to the enduring power of meaningful educational practices.

And yet, something is missing.

The signboard has disappeared. An element of memory, a public trace of educational history, is no longer in its place. It is reported that the project was included in an ESPA funding program. But who decided on its removal? Was it the action of a public authority? An arbitrary act by citizens? Negligence? Or does something deeper lie beneath—the gradual erasure of collective memory from public spaces?

The question is not only who, but why. Why remove a signboard that claimed nothing more than to remind us that, once upon a time, students cared for the park, studied it, and loved it? At a time when we constantly speak about active citizenship, environmental awareness, and sustainability, the absence of this small symbol invites reflection.

Perhaps the time has come to reconsider public space not only as a field of projects and funding schemes, but also as a space of memory, education, and continuity. Because parks are not just green spaces. They are stories—and we have a responsibility to keep them visible.

Below is a recent photograph taken by a volunteer of Esaei en Roi, a French woman from the Alps, who proceeded to clean the signboard. It had been covered with chaotic spray-painted shapes that completely obscured and distorted its content and the information it once conveyed. After the volunteer’s intervention, this was no longer the case. Yet the effort proved futile.

Someone arbitrarily removed the signboard.

Why?