Describing a place.

A tunnel is like a bridge but without showing off.

The reason I chose the tunnel is because I was told there would be birds. Now I realize it’s not a good choice for birds to be there to hide away from the cold.

In the tunnel you can go back which can be a forward; or you can go forwards which it could be a back.

I feel I need a reason to be here (which I kind of have) but maybe that is because this place it’s not meant for permanence but for transit.

It’s “funny” to see this two framed arch images of ‘two’ ‘different’ places that are actually one (the city is one). The first image is filled with cars (static ones), a boat, a sculpture and buildings. And int eh second with trees, moving cars and only a part of a construction which I know is the church.

It’s windy. It’s cold.

Even though I’m sheltered I don’t feel sheltered since the tunnel is to short, making the entrances too big.

I know my presence here is weird since the faces of people passing by by bike remind me of that every time they show up.

I guess this place is for bike transit mainly.

Sound echoes as I cough. Although as I whistle I realize it’s not that much echo around. I wonder if it is because it’s so windy or the architecture of the tunnel.

The tunnel is made by this big curve plaques that I imagine they can also be used to sewer constructions. It’s not one plaque making the arch but two. And there are six plaques on each side.

As a bike passes by and rings the bell I realize that it’s actually quiet here. I can hear only the birds, the wind when it comes stronger and the cars in the distance.

There are a lot of graffiti but I don’t know what they say.

A lady passes by running by running and I pretend to count the lamps on the roof top. (There are actually five lamps)

It’s not really dirty, only stones, leaves and dust. Not a single trash piece.

The sound of bikes passing by is nice. I would like to hear many passing by and not one.

You can hear how the tire presses the ground against the dirt. It cracks and it reminds me of the sound of static in the television.

I go back and forth, but not going out. I finally go out and realize that there is actually a lot of light. Or maybe it’s only that I spent so long under the tunnel.

The church bells rang and I go back inside looking for the echo, but find nothing.

There aren’t cracks on the ceiling or the walls. But that can’t be possible so I go back and forth trying to find one. There isn’t one single crack in the concrete, the only ones I find are on the lamps and I smile amazed of the fact that they all have it in the same place, the middle glass (They have three glasses each).

The wind blows a piece of paper in my notebook and I run to catch it. Secretly I was wishing to run more but I catch it just two feet away.

I go out and decide to look at the tunnel from the distance.

It’s a nice little tunnel.

I decide to name it. Tunnel Smittens.

I can see now the Volvo machine on top of the tunnel.

As I move I can’t see the image of the other side. Only the inside of the tunnel.

As I go back in the wind grows stronger. Once int he middle of the tunnel it seems to settle.

At this point I realize I’ve not been describing the tunnel, but my relation with that space-place and what happens in there.

I decide to go back.

I hear a bike as I walk away and I want to say “BOO” but I won’t. And then i get scared because the bike is going to hit me, and then I realize it was Mario.

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