It's been five years. Life progresses slowly in constant cycles. In the past five years, I wandered around in many corners of cities, looking for all kinds of trails. Those little traces. They are endless, repeating many of the same sounds. I counted their tiny steps. Where are they going?
But the wall of the puzzle is still there. It follows, grows, and constantly changes shape. I can't recognize it. I can't make out the similar bricks. The shocked face in the mental hospital. There was a lifeless skeleton next to the charming woman on the bed. The rows of hammers moving neatly. Those two lingering flowers making love. The corpses of soldiers crisscrossed in the trenches. The man soaked in blood. The black eagle that flapped its wings and turned from a white dove. The shadow of the woman who turned into a piranha. The blurred crowd. The children who became sausages who walked to the meat grinder one after another. The students who pulled off their masks while screaming and smashed the doors and windows of tables and chairs. Those bloody hands struggling on the fascinating wall. That crazy event like a religious ceremony. The blood cross that gradually fell off from the rice-shaped flag and turned into a phantom. That crossed fist. That pale face. Those handsome faces who turn their heads neatly and talk neatly. The wall that collapsed. The falling bricks... the
wall is always growing. I have carefully searched for its beginning and end. I keep finding the beach. I saw the sea smiling at me. I saw the wall under the sea smiling at me. The seaweeds grow luxuriantly, blooming purple flowers. When the wind passed, the flowers flew up one after another, soaring to the sky...
they were all flowers parasitic on the wall. I know. For a long time, I have been doing the job of burying the dead bodies of flowers. I listened to their dying voices. How could their once splendid and charming bodies leave without a word?
I heard the howling again. My puppy is calling me. I haven't charged it, just don't want it to harass me too often. What is it doing?
I turned around.
My puppy is sitting by the wall with a beautiful flower in his mouth.
2000-02-25
View more about Pink Floyd: The Wall reviews
