Suomen, our tracks
Empty street. A single torn cement bag below a raised tram track, and a borrowed wicker chair, witted morning break. The work site is resting. At Senate Square time stops with a song of recorded bells, and starts again as a trumpet sounds. An old man plays one melody, then he departs. Suomen, small, tidy city of grey stoned paths, where café signs tell roller-skaters not to pass. At corners, cables trickle from open drain pipes, summer stalactites, to fend off, perhaps, the long winter’s ice. Yesterday, navigating through scattered islets and gusts of cool air, Today after the rain, water paints the Baltic through the tiles. Merikasarminkatu, empty street. Allegro, a train, 11:30PM, the lighted sky. Helskinki, this place we pass by.


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