Isle of Moss
（続き）
Clumps of moss were scattered on the footpath section of the overpass.
It appeared that someone had removed the moss from between the carriageway and footway, or between the footway and the base of the retaining wall.
I thought it might have been a prank by children on summer holiday, but perhaps it was the work of an old adult.
If the moss is an eyesore and you have to strip it here and there, you should clean up afterwards. After thinking about this, it occurred to me that logic, such as the fact that it was an eyesore or unsightly, was irrelevant.
Meaningless destructive impulses.
Whether they are adults or children, there are inevitably a certain number of people who exhibit uncanny violence.
I sighed at the thought.
I live on an isle ( a clump of moss cast down on the pavement). I am not humanoid, but rather an appropriate figure, like a cyprinid worm. I spend my time wriggling through the green moss, looking up at the sky and feeling the wind blowing across.
It may be an isle, but to me, it is the whole world. It is impossible to depart from it.
Destruction leads to new creation.
When I think about this, I feel that the Creator is a companion of the destroyer.
Without a beginning, there is no end.
The moss that was scattered all over the place was cleared away neatly the next day, and the moss isle where I live was gone.
The music used for the slides was
Positunes - Royalty Free Music
Ave Maria (Guitar and Violin Duet)
SoundCloud
