Meet me at Westminster Bridge....
A beautiful woman with almond skin, wearing a black wide brim hat, with a pair of bright Indian eyes staring deep into Gogol's eyes -'The Nose' it is, and a medium-length burgundy skirt that uncovers a pair of legs crossed from excitement, twists her head to the side as a sign of reflection, smiles, and gets off at Tottenham Court Road.
It goes fast. Fan quick. Lights, the darkness of tunnel, white and the two other emblematic primary colours form indistinguishable straight horizontal lines. Simultaneous superfluous chats in various unintelligible languages knot up with the noise of unsettling laughter in a low register, the piano theme off beat, and the obsessive repetition of that line which sums it up all, while it takes me to a brief state of trance and oxymoron. Train whistle. Blink. Smile. Switch lines at Waterloo station.
... like a spy!
It goes fast. Fan quick. Lights, the darkness of tunnel, white and the two other emblematic primary colours form indistinguishable straight horizontal lines. Simultaneous superfluous chats in various unintelligible languages knot up with the noise of unsettling laughter in a low register, the piano theme off beat, and the obsessive repetition of that line which sums it up all, while it takes me to a brief state of trance and oxymoron. Train whistle. Blink. Smile. Switch lines at Waterloo station.
... like a spy!
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