What I became most interested in within I, Impostor, was how it slipped around facts, the authentic and staged. Despite the dust there was no evidence of life, and that was what was so apparent – no animal remains, no bird droppings, no dead flies, beetles, spiders, mice; no dried moss around the drains, no mould, lichen, no weeds in the gutters, no sign of nature encroaching – as if only fictional characters had found this place and the rest of nature was absent.
