PLAYTHING

Hopeless. We leave the open space because we have no other options. The corridor never ends, and we have already forgotten why we are walking through these damned catacombs. When we started out, you were so enthusiastic, your excitement knew no bounds. New endeavors had always delighted you. But now that we have been wandering around for almost a year or more, something like realism, sobriety, has set in. Sometimes when you sob, I suspect it is out of frustration or even resignation. In the darkest moments, a yearning for death. I’ve always been the one responsible for keeping things in balance, for accepting things as they come. In your happy moments, when you are hurtling toward something, I have been there at your side. Silent. Waiting. When you have plunged into despair, failure or doubt, I have stood beside you, behind you. It was your highs and lows that fascinated me so much at the beginning, your ups and downs. These days, your extremes just exhaust me. We have already walked many hundreds of kilometers. I sometimes feel like it must be closer to thousands. Early on, we talked about turning back, but now we simply keep going. There is only this one single path. In the past, whenever we came across other walkers, they assured us that we could always pick a different path. I remember that we sometimes branched off to the right or the left. But each time we realized that we had only ended up on a detour that cost us time and strength, so we gave up trying to make other choices. The ceiling is remarkably high. There is space on either side of us, and there is still enough air. I have never been able to determine the source of the diffuse light. I used to have theories, but I eventually gave up on all of them. There is no sun down here, no fluorescent bulbs, no god. I always thought I could study causality through exclusion criteria. Nobody told me that many things simply have no explanation. I have managed to make my peace with this.

You are tired and stop walking. Rest! But not too long, because despite our eternal wanderings, we haven’t lost hope. We can’t stop. We have to arrive somewhere eventually. Presumably. And while I rummage around in my pocket for a piece of stale bread to give you to eat, I realize that we have become too exhausted to search for food. We’re bound to find something along the way.

Step by step. Hour by hour. Day by day, although it has been a long time since we could distinguish day from night. For us, it is “dight” and “nay”: a time continuum.