The first few steps into the memorial made perfect sense to me. The narrow path was straight, the sightlines were long, and I can see across the vast plain of grey blocks to the horizon framed by pastel colored buildings glowing from the sunset. The rows were clean, the paths were linear, and everything was orderly and predictable.
A few steps further, I began to descent in elevation. Or were the walls around me growing taller? I lost sight of the group of school children and their laughter became distant and removed. The pink horizon of the apartment buildings sank slowly behind the sea of gray and the dark stones reached upward towards cloudless red sky. The rolling cobblestone path lay before me, empty and serene, enticing me to crawl deeper. The tips of my fingers glided across the cold stone walls and guided me onward.
I caught slivers of other visitors and their shadows through the breaks in the stone rows and though I knew I was not alone, I felt separated from all that I was familiar to. The stones were now far over my head, dulling the commotions of the busy streets, slowing me down and challenging me to stop. To feel.
This would make a good playground to climb on and jump from block to block. It would make a good maze to play hide-and-go-seek in. If I was down here, busy running through the path and you were up there looking down at me, could I hide from you? Could you hide from me? Would I know you were looking for me? Hunting me? You can orient yourself by the edges of this stone garden, but I would have no idea where I am… there are no points of reference down here. How do I know I am running from you and not into you? I know there are others in here, but I cannot find them.
The rows were no longer parallel, their intersections no longer perpendicular. The stone blocks no longer stood vertically but caved in down towards me. They slanted and snaked and deceived me from my straight path. The path rolled up and down, carrying me through and I no longer steered.
The narrow breaks between stones only gave me slices and slivers.
A little girl with a yellow hat ran passed, I turned to catch the red glow of the sunset illuminating behind her shadow before she disappeared. Her footsteps echoed and her laughter lingered.
Who was she?
Is she running from what I am running from?
Should I run after?
Is she running from me?
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