The wind blows down from the opening of the sky in the northwest.
It smelled of iron and salt, like it was peeling off a dead sea.
I stood under the shadow of the tower in the old city, watching it disintegrate little by little——
First, the stone eaves on the top floor became loose, and the gray tiles fell off like an old man's teeth;
Then the inscription on the tower body was swept by a silent light, and the writing peeled off into powder and drifted away in the wind.
Those inscriptions are engraved with hundreds of years of wars, engagements, betrayals and oaths.
It's all empty now.
The mountains outside the city began to recede.
I swear they were actually receding, like the sea at low tide, slowly and inexorably.
Every time you take a step back, a new mountain shape grows out - exactly the same as the old mountain, but there is no trace to tell you that it was not here.
Some people say this is return to zero.
All historical pointers have been pulled out, and all trajectories have been smoothed.
From now on, our starting point is now.
I know this isn't true.
I remember the old elm forest at the foot of the mountain. I remember that the cracks in the bark are like a map. I remember that there is a singing insect hidden in the cracks.
But in the new history, that forest has never existed, and no one has heard of the insect's song.
They want to rewrite us so that they are as clean as newly made vessels.
But there are still cracks in my body - left by history.
I'm not going to let them heal.
Conception:-