The Aquarium or “Thirty four fish”.

There are thirty four fish in the aquarium

At the Danish Immigration Authority Citizens Service.

I counted. While I was waiting.

It’s been years since I last sat here.

I am dripping wet from the bike ride in the winter rain.

Three of the fish are golden, one is white-striped.

Two are a wild, deep, marine blue.

The waiting area - a large, white, too-well lit room - hasn’t changed much.

I heard a bureaucrat, at booth number three, say

Quietly, but firmly: “We DO need to see your passport.”

Ding: queue 3 - H3106

There are sixty eight of us. Most sitting. Some standing.

I counted us. While we were waiting.

Some of the fish are quite tiny, some are quite large.

Some are jet black, some orange.

The screen shows three queues – A, D and N.

It shows the waiting times for each queue. 

Queue D (mine) – 40 minutes. 

The aquarium is not the biggest I have seen,

But the fish are on the move, constantly. 

It seems quite big enough, for all the fish.

Ding: queue 2 - N2305

The swimming patterns of the fish seem randomly calm. 

It’s strangely quiet. In this large, white, too-well lit, filled-up room.

But then somebody makes a sharp movement, right next to the aquarium.

Suddenly the swimming  pattern of the fish is 100% synchronised,

And very fast. As if they are in flight mode. 

Of course they are not. Fish can’t fly.

The woman opposite me stands. She’s ready. It’s her turn.

I notice two fish have stopped moving. Is the danger gone?

 “I’m sorry. I thought I needed to go to booth number three. Sorry.”

“That’s ok. We just need to see your papers. Yes, those ones.”

Ding: queue 2 - N2306

Ding: queue 1 - A1745

Ding: queue 3 - H3107

The last voice had seemed somehow kinder.

One of the biggest fish has spots. 

Like a leopard.

I check my phone. 

Queue D - 47 minutes!

I wonder if the thirty four fish know what life is like 

On the other side of the glass walls?

I wonder if the thirty four fish think they are

A big enough number 

To be called a school. 

Ding: queue 3 – H 3108

My number. I stand up. Walk past the aquarium. 

I am still really wet from the rain.

Booth number three. The bureaucrat stares at me: “Is this document for you?”

I am white-striped. She seems surprised.

“Yes.” 

“We need to see your passport.”

“Yes.”

“We'll need a photo. Stand there. Look straight at the screen.”

“Thank you. Now your fingerprints, please.”

“No. The letter specifically says: No fingerprints.”

Ding: queue 1 - A1746

She seems surprised. Perhaps exasperated.

“OK. We'll need to take another photo then.”

“Yes.”

I can see the fish in the aquarium from where I am standing.

“Ok. Here are your papers. You pay the fee over there.”

“No. The letter specifically says: No fee to be paid.”

She seems surprised. Perhaps exasperated.

“May I see the letter?”

She IS exasperated.

“Is everything OK?”

Ding: queue 3 – H 3109

“You'll receive your residence documents in the post.”

I walk away. Past the aquarium. 

I make no sudden movements.

The fish are swimming calmly. Randomly.  

I leave - through the glass door.

The others will leave soon, I expect.

Through the same glass door. 

It’s still raining outside.

I will get a bit wetter. We all will. But the good news is:

We are perhaps, after all, a school.

Listen to the words/sounds on the Vimeo link above.