My neighbour Kid was 42 when he died. He regularly swept our shared porch, put out the rubbish and kept an eye on things when I was away. As Kid couldn’t read well, I helped him with his post. He borrowed my phone whenever he didn’t have any credit on his own. Kid had a turbulent life: he was banned from seeing his son and struggled with alcohol and drug addiction. In the last year of his life, he spent more and more time with drifters and junkies, begging on the street for change.
Man Next Door examines the stigmatisation of the working class while offering a rare insight into the life of a working-class Utrecht boy. What emerges is a bewildering picture of Kid’s many personalities, inevitably raising the question: how well do you know the person who lives next door?
First edition of 800 copies.