I could see it now, I was standing at the threshold of the forest, 1 metre behind the foremost tree. A vast field had opened in front of me, what I had thought was yellowed grass was in fact some sort of reed. It grew in large patches scattered across the otherwise grassy terrain. Small, raised mounds covered in grass clustered close by the patches of reeds. The stone path stopped at the edge of the forest, and the large field looked almost undisturbed, where it not for the fact that it must have been kept in some sort of way, as the divide between the forest edge and field was completely straight all the way around. As I had previously thought, the field was roughly the size of four football fields. I stepped onto it and could feel my foot sinking roughly 3 centimetres – wet grass. I felt a slight frustration that I hadn’t figured it would happen, given the reeds. I regrouped and made my way forwards, picking what I deduced would be the dryest spots to place my feet, towards the bench situated in the middle of the field, facing the train-tracks and water. I needed to start thinking before I stopped caring again, before I lost sense of the purpose of thinking. I knew it wouldn’t be long before I would be caught by the pointlessness of it all –
“Why does it even matter?” I thought while hurrying towards the bench.
“I don’t really feel the need to…” I kept on, my feet slowing. I was close to the bench, but it felt decreasingly important. 5 meters left, and I was saved by the convenience.
“It’s more convenient to sit down and think, than not to. What else is there to do anyway?” I thought to myself, sitting down and looking at the train tracks. They seemed rusted, though I couldn’t tell from this distance. I wanted to continue the memory I had of the scholar. I leaned back, and left my body:
##########
“There will never be another bomb, you see?” Richard, the scholar, was gleaming – struck by the brilliance of it all. Edvin hadn’t really grasped it yet. He sat facing the chalkboard that Richard kept doodling on. The notes never really seemed to make sense; it looked more like a prop to make him seem more scholarly. Richard had finished his verbal ogling of the state of things and was now staring out the window on the right wall, from his perspective. Edvin could see the sparkle disappear from Richards eyes. His awe of the world was genuine, as it should be, though he never went on for too long before being distracted by other deep thoughts – despite their insignificance. It wasn’t easy to be a scholar like him. He was perpetually bothered by something, something he couldn’t put to words. Edvin was a clever boy, and he knew it too, however seeing as things were perfect his laziness could be caused just as much by the current as by his talent. He had had thoughts, though they never seemed to be finished when they left his lips, and he never really felt the need to finish them either.
“Three states for existing, three states of being, separate forms of the perfect freedom” Richard continued, still looking out the window. He was nodding as he said so, in acknowledgement, though with less obvious gleam. He had said these sentences in so many rooms, to so many people, that Edvin could only applaud Richards gleams resilience.
“You will be on the move soon” Richards eyes bore into him like a pair of wrenches, as if he wanted to unlock Edvins brain and fiddle with it.
“Well yes, I suppose I will” Edvin said with an impressive nonchalance.
“Will you remember this?” Richard inquired. Edvin was struck by the questions pointlessness, as he hadn’t thought about how his mind would act in the future.
“Like I will remember anything else of importance” Edvin said, with a confidence he had no reason to have – as he had not yet been on the move.
“Moving will likely teach you a lot of things Edvin” Richard said in a cold tone, his gleam was replaced by a neutral stare. “You will vote, talk to people, and leave places, arrive at new places – you will always be welcome to stay at any place you are” Richard monologued, “You will learn more about the existence we have carved for ourselves in Kipper Wick, Aspen Laden, and Staten Morbid”
#############
“It was probably the last time I saw him” I thought, though I didn’t feel completely convinced. Richard was his name. The memory was significant – It must have been.
– Unifinished, October 20th
Staten Morbid 