Mice dance

Lignes invisibiles

A short night story.

Late in the night, I am the only one waiting for the train to arrive and I enter the empty underground platform. Some small dots are moving far away on the glossy floor and then hide themselves inside some tight, thin lines inside the walls. How do they even fit inside these lines? I am wondering. Then a low, but penetrative sound. These small moving dots do also make some sound, they actually have a voice. Whenever I approach them they disappear. Thus, I have to adapt my movement in a way that I can get closer to them. My steps now become smoother and more slow. I manage to get closer to the dancing dots and then I realise that these small balls are mice. Tiny, little, baby mice. Whispering the song of the anticipating train and the song of the rubbish bins, the song…

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