The Fragrance of Flowers on the Far Shore

"Charge! For the glory of the motherland! Destroy the enemy!" But... Why kill them? We don't know them... Numb, bloody, cruel When the glory of sacrifice is tarnished and becomes a number jumping off the assembly line, death loses its original weight at the same moment. On the Western Front in 1917, a collective illusion about "meaning" was collapsing The soldiers discovered that they were just moving symbols on the staff map; the rear found that the "heroes" on the front line were just prisoners of hunger and fear; the country discovered that the call to "sacrifice one's life for the country" was ineffective - when everyone could clearly see the nihility of war, some people chose to turn a blind eye. The war is still going on This is the dilemma of modernity: the system no longer needs people's approval, only people's obedience. War never needs heroes, only puppets who can charge forward. This book does not talk about glory, but only records the various forms of resistance to nothingness: some people refused to be included in the death, some people mocked the monument by living, some people recognized the common misfortune between the enemy and ourselves, and some people guarded an unsendable letter deep in the trenches. These gestures may not change the outcome, but they have carved traces of "non-cooperation" in the cracks of history. It does not promise redemption, but only presents a kind of stubbornness: when everyone has learned to count the price, there are still people who pay the price for the incalculable. Pay tribute to that great peace! Commemorate everything that has passed away. Only by facing "it" can we understand that the only meaning of sacrifice is to prove to us that "it" is meaningless. (Note that I am talking about the first battle, please don't blame me)