There are many ways to speak of rails.

You might begin with the vast grassy fields, where countless steel tracks lay spread—these 762mm-gauge rails, just slightly wider than a human shoulder, once stretched over three thousand kilometers across the southern plains, branching and extending like veins.

You might recount the goods they carried, the places they pointed toward, the rivers they crossed, and the factories they connected—or speak of how they were slowly buried in concrete, covered in blades of grass, now appearing in and out of sight beside roads and beneath overpasses.

You might describe the tangled politics, the expanding and collapsing rhythms of the economy—how unseen points were once linked into lines, shaped into surfaces, and formed into a bridge of steel that held the weight of poets and bridge-keepers alike, all gazing out in awe.

And still, the words begin to fade. The images blur. Speakers, listeners, and viewers all fall into silence. Only the abstract lines remain—rising into space, interwoven in midair, extending endlessly toward some distant beyond.

Drawing from the history of the sugar industry, the exhibition takes railway tracks and the Hsilo Bridge as key anchors. Through material and shadow, it assembles fragmented perspectives—inviting viewers into the latent constraints and infinite reach of lines.