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Photographer's Note

Love letter
This morning, walking over this overpass pavement towards the bus station, people saw these letters orderly scattered on the sides of the iron bridge. A lover who seemingly lost her love composed poems and wrote each one of them on a separate piece of paper. He neatly put the papers on the way his beloved may pass to see, to read and to come back. On one of the papers the lover wrote as follows:
If not madness,
What do one call it?
When in this sprawling world,
You only want to smell her perfumed air.
Nowhere, never,
The bang of life,
Has not been answered.
Your nice heartbeat,
Is the response I expect.

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