Light at the top of the tunnel

…And when I touched light at the ceiling of the Belleville tunnel, for an infinitely infinite feeling split of a second, which I had seemingly been waiting for an ultimately eternal life span;
and I felt their hollow eyes piercing my back cynically;
and I saw the dazzled looks on their pale, frigid, empty faces;
and I heard their thoughts stumbling over freshly grown branches of the unknown;
and I smelled their anger and frustration, caused by the uninvited guest I let run free and unchained, scaring the living dead and intruding into the vaults they had built of despair and hopelessness , forcing their facades to drop…

 

…All I could do was smile.

 

Freedom had set its foot over my doorstep.

 

Oh lost friend! How different was your face to all the faces I expected you to wear!
How good felt the invigorating, warm embrace of your sturdy arms!
How alive did I feel when your breath touched my heart and cut the strings my brain had grown to imprison it.

 

 

 

Words by Pia Petersson
Photography by Pia Petersson