“Once you have come under its shadow, they say that you stop; that you like to pause to breathe in the cool, cool air, to take in the water and the reflections of the underbelly. Yet, never, they say, do you lingered there for long, pressed beneath the mirror-like spheres and the earth: for the rigid rhythm of the cold concrete columns, overwhelm you, they say, and you feel pushed away.

Instead, they have noticed that you will climb up those stairs to get away—up and far from the earth below, before you emerge again to the openness above.”

“Each time you are said to visit, passersby, they tell me that you stare at the spheres, the wooden frames over the roof. They say that you are mesmerized by the reflected daylight, the spectral gleams— it’s order and it’s disorder. They say: “this one, they are drawn to it.”

They have seen you through the openings, as you enjoy your walk down that alleyway, as you run your fingers along the aging walls, approaching the structure. And at last, as you arrive, they say that something changes in you.”

“Exposed to the sky, they say that they have seen you come out onto the creaky decks, like scaffolding, where the rigid frame holds up the chaotic paths, the spheres and your weight.

They speak of your exploration. Some say you enjoy most being near the neighboring buildings, excited by each turn, each corner, each opening; others claim you are most impressed by the view out to the city, feeling powerful though exposed; still yet, there are even rumours that you might take most pleasure in seeing your own strange reflection in the polished metal, intrigued by your distorted image.”

“At some point, they say, they will find you standing before an opening, the entrance to the large metal sphere, as you prepare to be swallowed, before walking in with caution, awed by the slices of circles and squares.

They tell me that once inside, you will listen to the echo of your footsteps, as it reverberates against the concrete walls, how you will look through the holes up, down and out, to the layers of void and structure, as the light comes in.

Some have even claimed that you can feel them, in different ways, all around you, as you sometimes pause to sit, and look out each opening—they have not overlooked it.”

“
They have waited for you, while, according to them, you would stay there for hours. Unable to observe you, they have speculated on your doings. They assume you are, perhaps, reflecting on a inexplicable sadness or in careful contemplation; they have suggested you are at rest. Either way, they do not see you again sometimes until nightfall. And only once the sky has darkened, and the city around has come alive with light, they say, only then, will you step out, to bathe in the midnight glow.”

“You are said to continue your journey walking up the narrow stairs which convey you up to the next level: there has been talk of your exploits there, where you are high above. They speak of you, entering an intimate room sheltered from the rest of the world, they speak of you, approaching the walls, close though bare. Here, you would touch the concrete walls, they say, before you slip inside, and out of view.
”