11/16/2025
In Colombia, disused cinemas — once echoing with laughter and applause — are finding a second life as nighttime shelters. By day, these halls may still flicker with occasional community screenings or youth workshops, but after dusk, they transform into quiet sanctuaries for the unhoused.
Old projection booths are reopened, their dusty reels revived to cast silent black-and-white classics onto high ceilings. The moving images serve not to entertain, but to calm. Chaplin walks again, Buster Keaton balances on silent rooftops, and light dances across sleeping bags like memory’s lullaby. The screens become skylights, offering a patch of starlight indoors.
These shelters preserve much of the original structure — velvet-lined walls, arched frames, faded posters — providing both warmth and nostalgia. Volunteers maintain the space, offering simple mats, hot tea, and lockers under old ticket counters. There are no loud announcements or bright fluorescents here — only a glow from vintage bulbs and the rhythm of soft reels spinning.
The act of sleeping beneath film isn’t just poetic — it’s psychological refuge. People once invisible to the city now rest under stories once larger than life. For some, it’s the first time they’ve laid their heads in a place built for wonder.
By turning relics of imagination into sanctuaries of rest, Colombia bridges cinema and shelter — letting memory and kindness cohabit the same screen.
