Dear Diary,
There’s a grassy knoll beside the road if you want to go for a stroll. It’s shrouded in mystery because it is so undisturbed by human noises, and standing on the ground looking up, you can see nothing beyond the dulling sky and a tree whose shadow is moving eastwards. And since normalhuman beings (that’s what I call passing strangers in general) have neither extra clothes nor theinclination to climb that steep incline, it’s really up to me—the abnormal human being in black—toconquer the landscape above. So I clamber up. Though it costs me ten minutes of hard labor and abruised right knee, it is worth the price, for an interesting, almost futuristic picture falls into view: an empty square of moorland lies down in the middle, gripped by the gigantic white wall on the leftand the dingy lab building on the right. This scene is so surreal yet serene that it would make a perfect cover for the novel Never Let Me Go.
I push myself through the untrimmed grass, feeling yesterday drizzling on the heels as my feet apply pressure to the wet, spongy soil. Watching from the heart of the land I observe birds and butterflies resting on the tips of green and the moody blueness of the sky pouring into birdsong. For a moment the hills are alive; they start to die when a sudden gust of wind blows the sound of music away and me out of place. I have a hard time keeping my eyes open and steadying my body in turbulence, yet I still remain because I want to see where the wind will take me. It paves a way out of nature that eventually leads to something unnatural—that is the mysterious wall, now towering a few steps away from me. I wonder what’s behind it, some alien residences or nothing at all? My hands grope through the whiteness, finally finding a thin slit and peering through it. Inside appears to be the temporary quarter for construction workers, but the windows are dimmed, and I don’t see anyone walking about. The whole place smells of plastic and paint.
So I’ve found out what the meadow is going to become – an institute of science. Turns out nature has no real claim to its life either, dear diary, just so you know you’re not alone in this matter.
*
I slide down the knoll and retreat to the main road. The trees on the right suddenly vanish and are replaced by a row of barbed wires. Behind the wires are grey sheds with trucks and lorries parked in front of them. I’m not in the mood to analyze the function of those architectures, but what is most certain is that they are not suitable for human habitation. This scene isn’t uncommon in urban areas and should not provoke any emotion in me anymore, but the moment it caught my eye an intense longing for the wilting flowers and that perverse monkey rippled in my stomach.
Although the monkey is energetic and the flowers are slowly dying, at least at certain points in their lives they were (or are) scintillating with being.
Traces of nature seem to disappear gradually as I walk down the road: the chirping of the sparrows is taken over by the throbbing of ventilation fans, and tree trunks and leaves are replaced by fat, silver pipes and nails respectively. My fingertips glide over the ragged surface of the barbed wire fence. It seems to stretch relentlessly forward, just like the sea in my imagination. If, If I cover the ocean with a giant wire mesh, will its wire jangle when it collides with the water?
I shake my head and divert my attention to the side of the river. The water doesn’t look particularly murky, but where in the earliest segments there had been birds of all colors catching fish, now there are not even pigeons to be seen.
It would be a massive understatement to say that I’m disappointed by the view, but I can’t find a more appropriate word to describe my feelings right now. When I passed the sheds a few minutes ago, I reckoned that seeing a heavily-polluted sea would be the worst-case scenario, because back then, it had never even occurred to me that there would be a barrier of houses blocking me from the entire ocean. My relatives didn’t tell me this, and neither did the map at the entrance of the park.
There’s definitely more to sea, but no, there’s no more to see. Yet with this knowledge in mind, I still linger on the bridge for reasons I’m not quite sure of. It’s not long before I realize that I’m only staying for the sake of staying, the same way an outsider stays until the party is over: I just can’t accept the fact that disappointment had come so quickly and that there was no twist in the process. So I told myself the best thing to do was to embrace the reality and leave, and my limbs obeyed for the first time.
On my way home, the rain tries to console me by tapping on my shoulders, but its humdrum tone irritates me instead. Why can’t it leave me alone?
*
I’m finally back in my bedroom, and my mind stumbles upon a book I read some time ago called North and South. It tells the tale of a young woman whose family had moved from the rural south to an industrial town in the north. Although it is a romantic story, there is nothing romantic about the environment the author depicts. The heroine’s mother had been complaining about air pollution in the north and (mostly) staying in since she arrived in town, and soon afterward she died of nostalgia. I didn’t feel sympathetic toward her when I was reading the book originally, but now I guess I know how she felt: like her, I also miss the gardens of the south.
I’m so constantly and consistently disappointed today, my friend. Maybe I should’ve stayed inside and rested, at least it would be better than walking outside like a fool and bumping into a dead end. Why waste my time on sceneries unworthy when I can take a long, sweet nap in the warmth of the blanket? Sadly I don’t know, and I probably shall never know. But then I guess my trip isn’t totally devoid of shimmer either, for certain fragments regarding nature always flow back into my mind even when I don’t want them to.
Tonight when I shut my eyes, I shall dream of nothing but a romantic life.
Sleep Tight,
Your Author
Louis H
Jessica T