Weekdays-underground: work. But our eyes roam freely. And they move like this, like fish. The whole eyeball a green emerald. Two emeralds turning like a shoal of fish. The underground station is a tube connecting heaven and hell. I sit down beside you and the-re I begin. The sculptures on the ground don’t seem to get in the way. I wonder if anyone thinks they’re sculptures. They move down, from my head to my foot. I’ve been wanting this for a long time: walking from one end to another, singing without hiding it. She might even be staring at me with love because I’m singing. I know she sings.
Photos: Niklas Lello