Wednesday 31 May 2022, 10.00 - 11.30

Location: Market Square, Vasa

Edges of Market Square: we define the edges of the square as the point where the cobbles end.

Details of exploration:

Below is the overall 'score' or series of prompts that were used for structuring an experiment in collective writing in public space. A series of prompts for timed writing/reading together in Market Square, Vasa, in conjunction with an agreed pattern of movement. The 'choreography' or movement pattern of this practice, involved gradually moving from the periphery/perimeter of the square towards the centre. Specific positions/locations could be moved or changed during the practices.



Location: Edge/perimeter of market square

Duration: 30 minutes writing


Interlude: 10 minutes (reflection, writing, sitting, resting)



Location: Using the posts within the square as orientation (mid-way towards the centre)

Duration: 30 minutes writing


Interlude: 10 minutes (reflection, writing, sitting, resting)



Location: Centre of the square

Duration: 30 minutes writing


Reading: Taking it in turns to read the writing generated from the last prompt, SAY IT AGAIN.

To the right is documentation of this exploration, alongside the texts generated through engaging with each 'score' or 'prompt'.


Location: Edge/perimeter of market square

Duration: 30 minutes writing


Location: Using the posts within the square as orientation (mid-way towards the centre)

Duration: 30 minutes writing


Location: Centre of the square

Duration: 30 minutes writing




It is seventeen degrees and 09.50.


The centre seems so still.

No one crosses the centre of the square.

I imagine diagramming the movement of the space and the edges. An empty square with no inhabitation at the centre. It is strange that people cross the square on the new paving that cuts across at the third mark – as if unwilling to come into contact with the cobbles. Someone enters the centre – we are already creating an attentional field that also seems difficult to cross. The person crossing seems ill at ease.


A group of children now cross led by their teacher, their feet are reflected in the mirror of the silver stage. An empty stage, an empty square – all the action pressed towards the edges. In the café behind me, the men have brought music of their own.


In the corner of my ear. No, for ears have no corners it would seem. Only the eyes. Only the eyes have corners, and the mouth. What can only be seen in the corner of the eye?


A passing glimpse, or the strain of peripheral vision. Movements. A pigeon, no, an unusual black bird searches for crumbs. A man has noticed us and starts to approach. He speaks to me. I say that I only speak English and he walks away. We are so easily noticed. In the corner of whose eyes? Who notices and what do they notice?


The man carrying the red pelargonium.

The man with white shoes and socks who seems to be singing to himself.

The men in the café with their conversations and newspapers.

The woman on her phone.

The two men on bikes.

The school children sitting by the statue from 1918.

The stall holders.

The man in shorts and striped ADIDAS trainers.


Movement of traffic at the sides, and the regular change of the advertising screens.


But what appears? What appears in the corner of my eye? Not what I can see but rather what appears?


Circling seagulls reveal air currents and eddies of wind invisible to the eye.

What do the routes taken show or reveal of this space?


Gleam of glassy shards between the cobbles hint at events now in the past.

To hint.

How does this space hint?

What is hinted towards?

Can I take the hints?


Does the fact of being approached hint at something, disclose something of the unknown rules of this space? There are ways of operating in this space, patterns of behaviour solidified into habits, even into rules or codes.


Notice. Noticing. What?

What is noticed? Different perhaps to what is ‘seen’ – what appears?


Cigarette ends on the floor disclose that this is a place of waiting.

A line of cobbles leads me to the next place to stand. But what do these organisational patterns tell – it is difficult to tell.


I am not sure how to attend from the corner of my eye. Does this require that I hold a steady gaze? As soon as something draws my attention, the object comes centrally into view. I look towards the centre, the centre of the square.


The surface of the square itself undulates, the change in direction of cobbles is a device for helping the drain away excess water from the square. Function in these patterns.


Patterns floating and forming on the surface of my eyes.

Activity at the edges, around the edges.

And all these advertisements for brands that I do not recognise by name.


The clapping of the school group pulls my attention towards the statue, and then towards the boy who runs away from the square, and now towards the page where I am writing and to the fly making its way across the page. I realise that my handwriting is becoming illegible.


Sounds pull my attention to the corner of my eye. My eye, like the square, has emptiness at its centre.


The floor is marked by lines as though by someone counting time.


A woman in red inadvertently joins us in our shared activity, as she begins to write in her notebook. Unbeknownst to her becoming a part of our “we”.


From the corner of my eye:


Hidden things

Unnoticed things

Illicit things



What is it that I notice, or rather what is it that might come into view, in the corner of my eye?


The liveliness, the liveness of the square feels suppressed by all this corporate branding. Suffocated somehow. The trees somehow try to hold a space open, or rather seem ‘used’ to hold a space open within the square. But they somehow feel outside of the square itself, part of the clutter at its edges.


Life seems to just pass through, but fails to really animate the centre of the square. It is like an empty carpark, a new truck arrives and begins to unload.


It is 1017. Someone has already moved.

For this exercise, I need the time to just wait.


Less writing and more waiting.

What to repeat?

What is agreed upon? 

What do we agree upon? Where do I want to sit? Where are you? Where does it begin? Do we agree? We know a time for starting – 09.10. We are approximately in the same space. “We” – already an assumption of agreement. Where is this “we” and do “we” agree? What do we agree upon? The temperature is sixteen degrees. I know this from the LED screen on the building at the edge of the square. It is 09.12. But does the temperature feel warm or cool? How is the feeling of this space, this square? Do we agree upon that? Are there even any facts to name, to speak of? And what is a fact – is this something that is agreed upon? By whom? What are the facts of this place? Can I count them? I can count twenty-one bikes, but further on I can see others, but cannot count them for sure. What can I not see that you can? Similarly with the number of trees – I sit beneath one, up close, others are clearly seen, recognisable even by the leaf. Whilst others are partially occluded by stalls and cards and trucks and banners and signs. I could not say with any clarity how many trees there are in this square. Not from this perspective, I would have to move. And in moving, other things become occluded from view. My view, my perspective, is only ever partial.


I move – it is 09.20. Closer to the men at the café, sitting outside, all wearing caps and glasses, mostly of a certain age, but it is difficult to tell. It is difficult to tell. I am struck by this phrase – what becomes difficult to tell? Ambiguities. Uncertainties. Indeterminacies. What is it that is difficult to tell? And what is it that is easy to tell? Is this what we agree upon – that which is easy to tell? But what is easy to tell?


So much speculation – what do they agree upon, the men in caps and glasses? What do they agree upon? They are talking together, an arm waves out to gesture a point well made. They are also reading the newspapers. Between reading and conversing, what do they agree upon, what is difficult to tell?


“They” – already marking out some difference. “They” are not “we”. But who are the “we” and who are the “they”? Do we agree upon that, and what is it that we agree upon?


Even the most seemingly neutral observation is filtered by so many things, a particular lens, a specific perspective or attitude.


How do I remain at the edge? Am I already in the market square? This edge between being in and out, between observing and being observed. Are these definitions already clear and precise? Am I already observed, by whom?


I decide to move – it is 09.27.


A man comes over and speaks to me in Finnish and I smile. What did we agree upon, did we agree? Opacity of language, the unknowing when one does not understand.


I take a photograph. Did we agree upon that?



What do we agree upon?

What do we share?

What is in common?

What do we collectively see, hear, smell, touch, feel?


Can the feeling of a place ever be agreed upon? Feeling is such a contingent experience, always singular.


Rules. The rules of the square. Can I discern them and are they agreed upon? The parking of bikes and scooters, in places left in lines, at other moments scattered as though just abandoned.


Floor markings – signalling the change in zones. What does the cobble stone signal? In places, a diagonal line of stones cuts across the grid of pattern. Circular patterns protect the roots of trees. A Decaux sign hums as it changes from one advertisement to the next. I lean against its edge – the humming gets louder.


A line of upright metal poles holds a series of flags and banners, brands and logos and signs meant to inspire. The poles themselves are scarred and marked with tapes that have been applied and removed, marking the once trace of posters placed illicitly, unagreed, unsanctioned. There are certain things that are sanctioned in the square, and certain things disallowed.


Sanction. Prohibit. Rules. Permissions. Conventions. Expectations. Habits. Presumptions. Ways of doing things.


What do we agree upon?

Sound is the pulse of this space – passing through.

This seems to be a place for passing through, not for lingering, not for living.

This is a space for talking in twos.

This is a space for taking a short cut to the shops.

This is space for parking.


The centre of the space remains empty of life.

Say it again

The centre is empty of life

Say it again

The centre of the square is lifeless.

Say it again

There is life only at the edges of the square.

Say it again

Life animates the edges.

There is no movement at the centre.

There is stillness at the centre.

The centre is still.

Still is the centre of the square.

There is a stillness.

There is no stillness at the edges of the square.

The centre is still.

The margins are animate.

The edges move.

There is movement only at the edges.

Moving edges

Moving around the edges.

Wind moves in the centre of the square.

Wind animates the centre.

There is no life at the centre.

It is cooler at the centre of the square.

There is shelter at the edges of the square.

We are alive at the centre of the square.

We animate the centre of the square.

We are still in the centre of the square.

We still the centre of the square.

There is a stilling at the centre.

We are still at the centre.

We are stilling the centre.

We draw life into the centre.

We draw attention to ourselves.

We draw attention.

We call attention.

We are calling attention to the centre of the square.

We focus our attention on the centre.

We are the centre of attention.

We are centring our attention.

We have centred attention.

Our attention is centred.

We are a centre of attention.

We centre attention on the centre.

Centring of attention.

Centred attention.

The centre of attention.

Centring attention.

Creating a centre of attention.

Drawing of attention.

Inattentive edges.

Inattentive to the edges.

Inattention to the edges, focuses the attention.

Centred in the centre.

Centring of the square.

Finding a centre in the square.

Inhabiting the centre.

Stilling the centre creates attention.

Centring stills.

Centring calls the attention.

Stillness call attention.

Movement at the edges

Stillness at the centre.

Sounding of the edges.

Silence at the centre.

Sounded edges, silent centre.

Silencing the centre.

Sounding the silence of the centre.

Sounding the stillness of the centre.

The emptiness of the centre.

Writing the emptiness of the centre.

Writing the emptiness of the stillness.

Writing the attention of the centre.

Writing of a centred attention.

Writing as a centring of attention.

Writing as a stilling of the centre.

Writing stills the centre.

Writing centres the attention.

Writing attends to the centre.

Writing from the centre.

Writing the centre.









Soft centred.

Softening the centre.

Writing softens the centre.

Softening attention to the centre.

Attention softens the emptiness of the centre.

Softening attention towards the emptiness of the centre.

Softening the centre of attention.

Softly, centred attention.

Soft centred attention.

Warm attention.

Warming of attention.

Warm is a softened attention.

Soft is a warmed attention.



10:29am - 18°


Say it again


Space and place. One becomes the other, and then back again. When a space becomes a place there is wonder, the feeling of something happening. When a place becomes a space two things happen (or can happen):

The first, is a space for- the space is attached to an use. The second one, the place no longer exists, it’s gone, it has lost its purpose.

Is a space always a space, but a place not always a place?


(A man approached Lena and was speaking to her. He asked “what are you doing?” in Finnish language “Mitä menneet? ← not pronounced like that and not sure if that is what he asked)


Why are squares and explanadas made?

It’s a public space that can be used for different things, but it kind of seems an odd place.

What are the things that one can do in a “public” space such as the square?


Walking, strolling, running, looking, sitting, eating, drinking, talking, thinking, hugging, kissing, standing, smiling, encountering, searching, meeting, losing, buying, riding, writing, reading, arriving, leaving, waiting, partying, fighting, loving, speaking, singing, screaming, enjoying, suffering, falling, jumping, stretching, bending, carrying, parking, finding, listening, sleeping, waking up, laying down, kneeling, rolling, asking, working.


Zócalo . “es un basamento, una estructura que sirve como cuerpo o borde inferior de una obra o como pedestal para erigir alguna construcción” - “proyecto arquitectónico sin terminar”




Caminar, correr, andar, acostarse, levantarse, hablar, gritar, jugar, trabajar, comer, beber, esperar, perder, encontrar, mirar, escuchar, escribir, comprar, gastar, tomar el sol, platicar, contar, esconder, ganar, fiestar, leer, vomitar, descansar, andar en bicicleta, estacionar el coche, buscar, brincar, hincarse, dormir, despertar, disfrutar, sufrir, confundir, prestar atención, reflexionar, investigar, olvidar, dibujar, pintar, estirar, manifestar, preguntar, responder.


The idea of a “zócalo” has always made me wonder what the purpose of a main square is. In México we call the main squares “Zócalo”. This word in architecture means “a structure that serves as a body or interior delimitation where one will erect a structure”

Although main squares are not always made to build structures made out of concrete, wood, metal or stone, they are built to present the opportunity of things happening there. Social structures unfolding.

9:39am - 16°


From the corner of my eye


If I only look at the notebook, what can I see? I only see the cobblestone at the moment. But as I move the notebook upwards, I see the street, the stands, I see my colourful jacket, my T-shirt. It's hard not to see, to focus, and observe. I keep trying to remember to “not look”. I almost shouldn't look up from my notebook so I can avoid focusing on something. But I still do. I still look up. Someone passing near me was wearing something yellow. It's carrying something, but I can't say exactly what.

People walking around.

I see in the corner of my eye two of the other writers. But I looked up before, so I kind of knew they were there already.

Cars moving on my right. Someone walking on my left. A flag on top of the building in front of me. Someone walking on my right. My hair on the left is moved by the wind. Someone is walking from left to right in front of me. I turn and more bodies are moving around. I turn. The sound of a group walking becomes more present.

As I try not to focus on the image I see the third writer now. I can't spot the fourth yet.

I focused on the fourth in the distance.

The corner of my eye images versus not images. I almost prefer no image and just body sensation. Sound, stillness. A group crossing the street; children by the sound of it. I can’t say I would have known they were children by the image I was getting from the corner of my eye. Although everything happens from the corner of my eye, also nothing happens. Focus and attention.

What do I register or how much of what happens when I'm not looking directly at it? I would say that most of the information I'm getting when I'm not focusing on it comes from sound and not image. Three women pass by but the image is really a blob, no specific details. The sounds grow more and more the less I try to focus on the image. I focus on the group of children I heard and saw passing by, they are smaller than they looked from the corner of my eye. A white car drives into the square. The eyes of the dogs on my T-shirt are really piercing when looking at them while trying not to look at them. The awareness of the body always becomes present when writing on the square. The holding of the notebook. The bottom of the feet, the ankles. The group of kids is now passing by again. They stop in the middle. A group of what sounds like teenagers moves past. The teacher is speaking to the students in Swedish. I don't know what the teacher is saying. The teacher and students look the same size. Although I know they aren't. The images are really blobby.

Sounds are all I have for information now. A writer is moving on my left. I know is her by the green jacket. A bird flew above. People, possibly all men, walked by. Green, yellow, black, grey, white, yellow, blue. I have to stop not focusing, it’s making me dizzy and utterly uncomfortable. Red.

9:11 a.m. 16°


What is agreed upon.


An area has been drawn. Marked, limited, defined and settled upon. We are here, all five of us. Maybe 7 at some point. I rotate my head and see one…two… only two so far.

Is “the square '' the inside of the limit only? Until what point is the square considered being a square?


Are the buildings belonging to the square? Where is the agreement with the square? Who is the agreement with? Who decides? Who proposes? Where is that conversation happening?

The bicycle goes in its lane. The cars and buses follow the lines. Go, stop. Move. You sign a contract and the city gives you a card. An agreement for driving. Walking:  limited by the ci

rculation of the vehicles. Walking, go wild. Step, stretch, forget, get lost, encounter.


Writing. The pen has an agreement with the paper. The hands with the pen. The mind with the hand. The thought, the hand, the pen, the paper. Sometimes that agreement boggles and one of the subjects doesn't fulfil the agreement. It's usually the mind, the one which startles and doubts, then, it makes the rest doubt and the agreement is broken.


Groups agree on walking together, they agree on the distance between each of the individuals, and the speed from person to person without talking about it. Someone has to slow down. Someone has to speed up. An unspoken agreement is made.


I'm not sure if the trees have agreed to their confinement. Maybe they have. I only know that at some point we have agreed not to speak their language. And they have agreed not to speak hours.


We have agreed on a time. The time would be up in 3 minutes. And then, on to the next agreement.


I haven't agreed on being observed. But neither have anything in the square has agreed on being observed and written by me. Agreed. Agree on disagreeing?


I move and observe. I move and look around. People, cars, a woman is speaking on the phone in the middle of the square. Hand on the waist. Hand on the phone. Phone on the ear. Left and right. Step forward, stop.


Casual modulation of agreements.




In den Augenecken sammeln sich Reste. Once upon a time the corners of the eyes were linked to the sand man. Das Sandmännchen war da. Sand for the inner eye. Salt for the outer eye.


Can I really decide what to see. A school class trespasses the corner of the left eye and is gone. The lonely e-scooter I do not want to write about.


Elektroroller auf der Welt vereinigt Euch. Elektroroller auf dem Boden der Flüsse verpisst Euch. Once upon a time a GPS system agreed upon that e-scooters crossing market places should slow down for 40%.


The Spanish language distinguishes between two type of corners, concave and convex, “rincón” and “esquina”. At least that ‘s what I remember. Rincón automatically places you inside, esquina makes you look at a corner from the outside. A place in language. To be placed by language. To be encornered or outcornered.


The school class has sat down on the staircase of the monument. Yesterday I was told about the statue on the market place. When I saw it for the first time, I was surprised not to find a copy of the US American “statue of liberty”. The kids clap loudly. I was told the statue is dedicated to a war. And that there were two sides, one red and one white.


A bird sits on the raised right hand of the statue. It has been there since I arrived. To look at this place from the corner of a bird’s eye. What it sees cannot be called. The bird moves its head to look at what. The center must be empty.


Beschreibung, Schreibung, Reibung. The bird has gone. Ich reibe mir die Augen. For the first time I look at the statue properly. And find two more legs. Zwischen den nach vorn ausgestellten Beinen der stehenden Figur liegen zwei andere Beine. (Let’s stop here. The statue gets enough attention anyways.)









Muuta kulta – ja hopeasi neesi rahaksi täällä.






Two vowels, a place for each eye to rest upon.


ä     ä


Umlaute, two dots on each one.


Wie Wimpern.

Augen so wimperlich.

Sei nicht so!


Man hat sich darauf geeinigt, besser so zu sein als so. Eben nicht loszuschreien, wenn man nichts zu verkaufen hat auf diesem Platz oder kein Screen ist. Nicht zu laut zu weinen, nicht so zimperlich zu sein im Allgemeinen, wenn man Schmerzen hat oder an Krieg denkt.


Es ist eine Sache in der Öffentlichkeit zu weinen, eine andere laut zu weinen.

It is one thing to cry in public, another thing to cry out loud.


Erwachsene, die auf öffentlichen Plätzen weinen. To be adult as in ‘erwachsen’. To be outgrown of what. Sometimes I see an outgrown person with water running from the inner corner of their eyes.


I miss a market place for public crying. A place to trade sunglasses against sorrows. E-scooters against slowness. (Let’s not make a list. I’m fed up with lists. The sheer enumeration of things, cheap receipt for helpless poetry. Aus der Hilflosigkeit keines Satzes heraus, der Welt nicht anders beizukommen als mit Komma, Komma, Komma ohne Körper. Also komm schon Satz. Make a sentence! Was willst du uns verkaufen? What would you screem out?


Once upon a time on a place named Kauppatori, which also translates as Weinplatz or Screemplace to be found on maps or if you ask a person, an Indian colleague living in Helsinki told me that Fins can be asked, they seem not to be bothered by the passer-by, not even when they ask in English, they will stop and explain you the way, that what has been agreed upon is a place to be filled with water from the corner of an eye or more. A place to exist anywhere or when something needs to be screemed. (Let’s leave out the content.)

Was vereinbart wurde:


-       Eine Statue für einen Vogel.

-       Gebäude an drei Seiten

-       Ein Scream, bedienbar von allen Anwesenden

-       „Ich fühle mich wie -40%.“

-       Ein Silbertablett in Treppenform auf dem Menschen serviert werden, für diejeningen, die gerade einen Menschen brauchen

-       Ein rosaner Elektroroller programmiert in den nächsten Fluss to fahren

-       Ein Waffelstand ohne Puderzucker



A place that shall be called Kauppatori, market place, Marktplatz in a city called Vaasa with one or two a to be found on Google Maps or on the little printed tourist map that was given to me last night that comes in Suomi, Svenska, English, Deutsch. A generic name, a no-name almost that could exist anywhere to be filled with. What has been agreed upon:


a statue with a raised hand

buildings on three sides

2 bus stations to arrive and leave from

4 digital screens

a big silver bench-stage

a lonely rose E-scooter

a mobile flower stand

a VAFFEL stand

a stand with golden rings



Two digital screens shall be placed on the back side of the bus station to project the word SILMÄASEMA. I’m reminded of the German word “Marktschreier” (Market screamer) for those


diejeningen, die ihre Waren laut feil bieten: “Drei Mark, Sonnenbrillen jetzt für nur 3 Mark!”


here in screen form




The screen buzzes, sounds like… How can something meant to be seen only be that noisy? Moving images that need to be fed with electricity shall be called market screemers or screaners from now on.


It has been agreed upon that four screeners shall be placed on the market place to sell, trade – for example sunglasses, women with sunglasses – to those that look at them. What else is agreed upon:


The center shall be empty.


Se med ögonvrån

From the corner of my eye


30 min på torget innanför det område som markeras av 4 gatlyktor



Befinner mig på torget nu vid en av gatlyktorna med 4 lampor. Jag uppfattar en tom yta framför mig men med en mer perifer syn, då jag tittar liksom från ögonvrån, ser jag objekt i rörelse. Jag vet att det är bilar, de är inte suddiga eller ur fokus men jag ser dem inte i sin helhet. Nu behöver jag fokusera blicken på det jag skriver. Jag tittar neråt och ser häftet på mitt lår. Sedan lyfter jag på hakan, på hela huvudet, ansiktet riktar sig framåt och blir synligt för torget. Jag sitter en stund på detta vis.

Nu bröts min koncentration och jag funderar på regnet som kanske kommer.

Att se från ögonvrån känns kopplad med upplevelsen av ljudkällor som jag inte kan se. Att se ur ögonvrån händer av sig själv, liksom. Nu aktiverar jag ögonvrårna medvetet och tänker att de båda är aktiva bildas ett synfält på 180°. Men, jag kan vända på huvudet och utöka synfältet – fast bakom mig finns alltid en död vinkel.

Tänkte på att titta på klockan längst upp på byggnaden, men gör inte det. Kroppens rörelse, position i rummet är kopplat till det jag ser. Hur jag rör mig definierar det jag ser.

Ett ovanligt ljud, en skolklass vid statyn klappar händerna.

Jag går ditåt.

En liten rörelse, ett litet rörelseschema för att se min skugga ur ögonvrån, vänder mig så att solen och jag är i linje. Skuggan är sval, ljus i ton. Vänder mig mot solen. Molntäcke.

Jag kan inte uppfatta människor bakom mig förrän de går förbi mig.

Lyktstolparna har en liten lucka och inuti eluttag, sladdar på väg till torgstånd.

Jag går sidlänges, framlänges, stannar sneddar stannar tittar

Jag uppfattar cyklister i ögonvrån. Jag vänder på huvudet och konstaterar en cyklist.

Det blåser lätt. Vinden kommer snett bakifrån.

Åter en impuls som perifer syn föranleder. Två personer närmade sig snett bakifrån, från höger, uppfattade rörelsen och utan att tänka på huvudet vände jag för att se vad är det. Vem är det.

Vad är bestämt i samråd?

What is agreed upon?


30 min i torgets yttre rand



Vi har kommit överens om var vi skriver på torget. I denna första del på 30 minuter skriver vi längs med torgets yttre rand. Exakt var torget börjar och slutar, varthän det sträcker sig är en öppen fråga. Den livligt trafikerade Esplanaden är en självklar gränslinje på den ena kortsidan men den motsatta sidan har ett mer otydligt slut då den avgränsas i en gågata. Torgets kullerstenar kan ge ett svar. Torgytan är lagd med kullerstenar medan gågatan är lagd med stenplattor. Det finns även infällda fasta bänkar på gågatan. Jag sitter på en av dem och ser i riktningen mot Hovrätten. Ett stråk för fotgängare. Bänkarna är placerade i rad längs med gågatan, men med en öppen yta bakom en högrest skulptur. Det finns bänkar på båda sidor om den öppna ytan. Mittemot mig, bakom en bänkrad, finns en annan skulptur, en abstraherad böjd människokropp i brons och rinnande vatten från flera olika punkter. Inte en fontän med sprutande vatten utan mindre vattenstrålar som böjer sig ner tungt. Ett fågelbad för stadsduvor. På bänkarna människor som inte känner varandra, och människor som gör det. Den öppna ytan blir en scen och varje person som korsar den blir påtittad.

Måsen som flyger över oss placerar oss i ett fågelperspektiv.

Sparvarnas tråkiga repetitiva läte.

En skolklass i rad avancerar i sakta mak.

Jag gick över den öppna ytan mot skulpturen. Att gå den korta vägen, snutten, kändes som en handling. Nu ser jag att den knäböjande skulpturen är placerad på en granitskiva och vattnet får rinna ut över denna yta. Allt vatten återtas inte av skulpturens omlopp utan droppar ned på gatan. Mörka områden bildas. Ett klistermärke med text, ett namn i en  stiliserad stil och nederst står det antifascist black metal.

Jag fortsätter mot torget, på kiosken för turistinformation finns en bild, ett historiskt fotografi av staden och dess butiker. En av dem säljer sprängämnen jakt- och fiskeredskap.

Säg det igen

Say it Again


30 min i torgets mitt



Vi skribenter, noterare det står vända mot mitten av torget. Fyra i en öppen båge vända mot samma håll, en vänd mot oss. Vad kan jag säga igen? Vad är redan sagt? Vad behöver upprepas?

Blir uppsökt av en person som frågar om jag språkar finska. Hen frågar: Vad vi gör? Är vi hemliga agenter?

Vad kan jag säga – vi skriver ner det vi uppfattar på torget. Skriver istället för att fotografera. Det är en omöjlig uppgift.

Ahaa; de utvecklar.

En av oss skriver bokstavligen på torget bokstavligen. Häftet ligger på marken.  Hen böjer sig över häftet i en skrivande gest.

Det ser ut som en muslimsk bön, säger personen.

Svarar att det ser ut som att häftet behöver läggas på något för att kunna ta emot orden.

Ja efter skrivandet kan ni ju ta en kaffe. Det finns våfflor, sylt och vispad grädde och så.

Jag tänker att de har sett oss från torgkaféet. En grupp har diskuterat vårt görande.

Vi blir påmind om möjligheten till urinvägsinformationen nej alltså urinvägsinflammation.

Vi har sittunderlag.


Vi står med ojämna mellanrum i något som liknar en stor cirkel.

Nu går två personer igenom denna cirkel, vi är här.

En grupp förskolebarn. Deras röster är starka.  

Nej kom tillbaka.

Rock n Roll hojtas upprepande gånger.

Hör ni nu ska ni komma ihåg att det finns annat folk här också

Vi ska inte skrika

Nu kommer alla barnen hit och sätter sig.

Ljudet lägger sig

En kan gå tvärs över torget i olika formationer.

Barnen går två och två i rad klädda i färgstarka västar.





What is agreed upon?

16° C // 9:10 a.m.

a person walks with two bags

shadows slant

walking is unidirectional

hold the bag for support

no parking at the corner

crows strut fly

doors open

the security guard steps out to check

water sparkles

light filters with a green tint

eyes on the phone

Wasa city bus is empty

tulips are blooming

dandelions are wilting

there is no place to sit

tricycle bicycle

coughing, spitting

the noise of the LCD screen

pink trench coat

catching reflections when passing shops

display arrangement

philology and cultural history

regularly appearing people

how to read a poem

political message

a relatively new subject

universally uncontested idiom

observably deliberate attention

European models

not directly represented

my activity


attempt to go beyond

From the corner of my eye

16° C // 9:50 a.m.


my shadow

reflection of a car approaching

a seagull

opening of a shop

camel coloured coat

white shirt, white shoes

closed umbrella


arranging of flowers

parent and child walking

cables blue-black across the shop

adjusting the cable to fit into the groove

once they appear

emancipated from the pulse of life

themselves and their work

it may seem old

it should go without saying

the first attempt is unconscious

its authority comes from orthodoxy

continuity reproduces continuity

if we consider a minute

the transactions, reports, calls

methods and systems are worth noting

it will not seem open to its feelings

it will not seem self-serving

evolved camouflaging jargons

interpretation is made possible

this is an especially important task

there are two exceptions

they are less dangerous

overcast sky


against a visit

reactionary gestures

cautionary gestures

clouds release time

facing the square

unknown birds

wind in the area blows


bag carriers


sun nettled leaves

birdy note

the smells of the interest

green scent through the window

the last pigeon to land

blood-red eyes

hop forward

chalk markings

measurements on the ground


stopping conversation


just a crumb

windows of the buildings

written instructions use of metals

people walking without a manual

what most don’t see

silver stage

smoothie coloured flowers

dapper fellows


movement of vehicles

potential dangers of uniforms

no tiptoeing

side street

cooling drinks

Say it again

17° C // 10:30 a.m.

sunlit morning

a broken piece of paper

shadows of people walking



white socks and white shoes

Jaffa bottle in hand

Jaffa is in Palestine

where they grow oranges

dusty orange building

neon orange sign

illustrations of hamburgers have orange buns

skin burns and turns orange

orange phlegm

orange reflectors in the bicycle tires

pink shirt

pink ice cream

orange cone

red strawberry

red chairs

red coats

red sale

green chairs

green coat

green bag

green lettuce bleaches into yellow

Say it again

17° C // 10:45 a.m.

a comb on the ground

black comb

wind passes through the comb

someone is eating ice cream

crouching body

standing bodies

speakers on the left pole

orange jacket of the child

watchers, stalkers, observers, pedestrians

sitters, drinkers, writers, eaters

chatters, laughers, movers, reflectors

visitors, passers, slowers, hustlers

planners, cautioners, groupers, shoppers

returners, vagauers, singers, take-overs

quarters, creamers, coasters, teachers

refractors, defaulters, deflectors, trainers,

tours, casters, shiners, bankers

savers, openers, closers, flowers

gutters, fritters, scammers,

quarter, settlers, one-leggers, two-leggers

turners, finders, shimmers, glitters

tighters, befrienders, cigarette-butters, pickers

snackers, bickers, flickers, spitters