Monuments to Memories Past
The last contact anyone had was in these halls. It’s easy to forget how necessary a hug is - to feel a connection with another person. The burn of sweat as it mingles and crawls along skin, the scent of hair and food and clothing and humanity builds on the pressure of arms entwined around another.
That’s all gone from these halls. That’s all gone from this earth. Humanity is sheltered within the robes of survival. Kundar knows this, but also knows he’s forgotten what a hug actually feels like. The robes are more than a barrier, more than a necessity. They are the sign of the distance humanity must put between themselves in order to survive.
One cannot clasp another. Not in greeting or grief. Rage, as it always has, damages all and so has become rarer. Or so Kundar thinks. Maybe the grievances have simply taken another form. Which is why he finds himself here on this mission.
He stands in the halls of what should be a great palace and shrugs. He has his mission and remembering is not part of it. So he hefts his rifle and sets off to catch up with his squad. Even on a sortie like this Kundar will come no closer to his comrades.
Today’s artwork is courtesy of Jun Xia from Beijing, China.