The corridor

Far into the old martinsalen there is a black door with a gold knob to handle. Inside you are waiting for an infinite corridor. The corridor is a maze, constructed of mirrors. The corridor curves, but at every angle there is a mirror that shows what is around the corner. Far away in the hallway, the mirror image of your own backboard is obscured. As you move forward, you find yourself pursuing yourself.


Sonja Nilsson