—
Small children carry armfuls of clay. As if it had been squashed together and solidified into a single structure, as if it were a nest freely hollowed out by working ants, or even as if it had always had this shape since long ago, the distorted building imposingly stood.
In one of the infinite abundance of underground rooms, in one of those dimly-lit rooms,
A young man, dressed in a thin, reddish cloth and a conical, woven hat hanging from his neck, speaks up in a high- pitched, androgynous voice.
“Gentlemen! As it is now, we live in fear of change, and in this generation dominated by idleness, we are forced to make sacrifices!”
Flicking candles.
Scattered applause. The sound of cheering voices.
“There exists no almighty, all-knowing god! Starting now, we will awaken the god that lies within our honest and ambitious spirits!”
Arms spread wide apart. Small body. Tall shadow.
“Nothing will change, nothing will change. Simply repeating that will not change things for good, nor evil. The ones we must change are ourselves! Let our bodies be wounded, our hearts be wounded, and even when we can no longer stand, still, the blood must continue to spill! The ‘obstinate ones’ that you gentlemen speak of will be the first to show signs of change!” The cheers continue without end.
“Revolution will always accompany ideals! It will always accompany virtue! There shall not be any comprimise. Our existence is not just for temporary amusement. It is a persistent sacrifice and salvation! And that is why, now, this world–”
A door opens.
The speech ends.
A middle-aged women.
“Your time to use this room has expired. Please make a prompt exit.”
The lights are forced back on, and as the middle-aged woman’s heels click against the floor, she turns to leave the room again.
“And please be sure to lock the door behind you.”
The bleak room that has lost all of its sinister atmosphere.
All that remains is the young man and a single radio cassette player.
The radio cassette continues to emit loud cheers for the young man.
—
Kowloon Idola
The melody is scattered all over like an unlawful building structure.
Angered by how no one and nothing changes, they are convinced that they, themselves, must change.
However, I envisioned the ultimate human weakness of gathering together advocates that support this notion.
But even still, every day, they wish to become someone that can flaunt justice.
—
Small children carry armfuls of clay. As if it had been squashed together and solidified into a single structure, as if it were a nest freely hollowed out by working ants, or even as if it had always had this shape since long ago, the distorted building imposingly stood.
In one of the infinite abundance of underground rooms, in one of those dimly-lit rooms,
A young man, dressed in a thin, reddish cloth and a conical, woven hat hanging from his neck, speaks up in a high- pitched, androgynous voice.
“Gentlemen! As it is now, we live in fear of change, and in this generation dominated by idleness, we are forced to make sacrifices!”
Flicking candles.
Scattered applause. The sound of cheering voices.
“There exists no almighty, all-knowing god! Starting now, we will awaken the god that lies within our honest and ambitious spirits!”
Arms spread wide apart. Small body. Tall shadow.
“Nothing will change, nothing will change. Simply repeating that will not change things for good, nor evil. The ones we must change are ourselves! Let our bodies be wounded, our hearts be wounded, and even when we can no longer stand, still, the blood must continue to spill! The ‘obstinate ones’ that you gentlemen speak of will be the first to show signs of change!” The cheers continue without end.
“Revolution will always accompany ideals! It will always accompany virtue! There shall not be any comprimise. Our existence is not just for temporary amusement. It is a persistent sacrifice and salvation! And that is why, now, this world–”
A door opens.
The speech ends.
A middle-aged women.
“Your time to use this room has expired. Please make a prompt exit.”
The lights are forced back on, and as the middle-aged woman’s heels click against the floor, she turns to leave the room again.
“And please be sure to lock the door behind you.”
The bleak room that has lost all of its sinister atmosphere.
All that remains is the young man and a single radio cassette player.
The radio cassette continues to emit loud cheers for the young man.
—
Kowloon Idola
The melody is scattered all over like an unlawful building structure.
Angered by how no one and nothing changes, they are convinced that they, themselves, must change.
However, I envisioned the ultimate human weakness of gathering together advocates that support this notion.
But even still, every day, they wish to become someone that can flaunt justice.
