I was on the train to Tokyo station, and I remember myself thinking about oblivion, when I was staring at the stone wall of the tunnel entrance, the vines and leaves were covering nearly half the wall in front of me, my mind warped maybe thousands years later? and everything was covered with everything, and becoming nothing and no one will remember anything at all. That particular station the train stopped for schedule alteration was one of the few, quite old stations around Tokyo. You could see the old bridge across the river, the architecture of west and east intertwining into each other’s culture.
Those skyscrapers. The millions of people being carried throughout this web like city. Some of us walking, talking, crying, laughing. All of that voice will be overridden by a silence so loud. Not even the memories and voices in the mind to fill up that immensely loud silence. I will forget everything yes? We all forget pretty much everything, every second, losing it all without noticing. And yet, we think we remember the past, the uncertain memories, thinking that is exactly what happened when it’s actually being conjured up this very moment, adding, subtracting certain episodes and emotions to fit the context of present.
We are all story tellers in a way. To fill up that hole of oblivion somehow, we make up stories and memories and heartaches and think we lived it all. I haven’t. But maybe I have. It’s just that I don’t remember it at all? That stone wall at the station, has been stuck in my mind ever since and suddenly appears out of nowhere into the day, sometimes at night, in front of me, when I lay staring above me. The leaves were so green, almost fake kind of colour. It was summer. The door opened would carry the humid heat into the cooled carriage and I would stare. That deep green wall in front of me. Now, I can’t see the line between my memory and that particular day.