My head hurts.
It’s not a metaphor, not an exaggeration. It is a physical ache born from living in a landscape that feels like it is closing in on me. Some people talk about skyline views with awe; I look at ours and feel my shoulders tense. Every day I am forced to stare at the same randomly scattered concrete blocks cause of hotels with their windows punched out and cranes swinging above rooftops.
It’s visual noise and a kind of background stress you swallow so often you forget you’re swallowing it… and while we keep calling this an island, but at times it feels like a construction site pretending to be a country… And the question that confronts me is the same one thousands of Maltese residents ask themselves daily: How did we let it get this bad?
Why do abandoned hotels occupy spaces that could have become public parks, gardens, outdoor gathering spots? Why is there always funding for another gas station but not for shaded pedestrian walkways? Why do cranes pierce the skyline where olive trees, carob trees, and fields once stood? Why does development in Malta almost always mean build more instead of build better?
People like to dismiss these thoughts as naïve or dramatic. But the truth is, living in a poorly planned environment affects our physical and mental health more than we admit. Urban chaos isn’t just ugly but it’s exhausting. It chips away at our sense of belonging, our safety, our community life. It teaches us to rush, to squeeze, to fight for space, to expect nothing but more concrete as the future unfolds.
In a perfect world, maybe the government would tear down the worst mistakes of the past and rebuild with intention, maybe we could see neighbourhoods planned like proper living spaces, not opportunistic puzzles.
We cannot undo everything. Some wounds will remain part of Malta’s story forever. The tragedies of Jean-Paul Sofia and Miriam Pace are reminders of what happens when construction becomes a culture of shortcuts. Their names should anchor every discussion about what safe, humane development ought to look like.
We can heal this island, but only if we stop numbing the pain and start treating the cause!