60.1875 degrees north and 24.9611 degrees east. This are the coordinates that locate Sörnäinen metro station. It was around half past eight in the morning. Today, on 21st of November 2012. The temarature was measured to 7 degrees Celzium, level of humidity to 92% and wind was blowing with the speed of 21 km per hour in the southern direction. More than that fact, which was barely perceptive, on that way of escalators from the underground, but everyone were able to hear the increasing whistle sound of a counter, with unknown purpose, located where the staircase reached the upper level.
It was definitely a rush hour. All three lines of escalator were completely crowded.
On the opposite side of where I was standing, there was a bunch of middle age rakes, dressed in well put together, probably second hand, clothes, that reflected some idyllic appearance of the gypsies from the mid 60s. While one was chewing a home made sandwich, with an open mouth, that made you really updated of his digestive tract process, another was screaming at the top of his voice to the third one. That was really a contrast from typical silence in the finnish public space. I must be grateful not to understood that loud conversation, which was confronted by the lumps of a cheese from this sandwich, that had also started to drizzle of his rambling mouth. At least if I conclude on the basis of the facal expression of an old lady standing a couple of stairs in front of me, that could had been visible in a wall reflection beside that brat man. Her frowning upon his behavior was most likely seen by the growth of an angle on her mouth which was almost to achieve the form of horizontally reflected Helvetica’s character U. A man behind her, who looked like a district attorney, wearing hiking boots, that completely opposed this profession probability, turned around, with uptight facial musles from which discontent in his anger was recognized.
Behind me there was also a guy, presence of whom i was very aware of due to his earphones and from there coming music that was loud enough to drown out the voice in my head. Irritated by my iPod which happened to be out of battery, I was trying to ignore described mundane stuff and also more than that not to keep looking at the chipped nail polish on my hands, there was nothing left but to think about the results of assignment I was about to present at Typography class in a couple of hours. Suddenly something happened. Escalator stopped. The mind flow of all described was currently interrupted. Still standing on their exact same places of the staircases, people started to look around, wonder whether if it was a mechanical error that stopped the escalator, or something more outranging. It took a couple of minutes for all of them to realize that the sliding device couldn’t had serve them any more with enabling the movement, and all were indirectly forced to use their own anatomical motoric.
Important or not, the cessation of the escalator was crucial moment that had separated that past progressive continuous duration of something from the something that happened afterwards and probably influenced all of their minds to forgot about what they had been thinking before that innocuous accident. Still that moment was most probably forgotten by the several to me unknown moments that happened later to every each of involved.
Shorten, the forgotten moment indicates a change in the time, or a perception of it.
Sara Vrbinc, 21.11.2012
Typographic course / Aalto University: School of Arts, Design and Architecture