I was always there, where no one else could see. There, in the dark corner where the wall meets the old, crumbling bricks. But no one cares about what happens beyond that corner. Even the bricks themselves don’t seem to care. At night, they sink into a deep sleep, perhaps dreaming of something I could never comprehend. Nothing stirs, only the walls groan silently, weeping under the weight of time. There, where silence is the only sound, I stood. Just me and the bricks, no one else.
If you were to ask me why I watched the bricks, I would tell you I don’t know. Nothing else mattered to me but those bricks. There was no other place for me to be. Sometimes, I wondered if the bricks suffered as I did. Perhaps they bore the same loneliness, the same silence that consumed everything.
No one cares about the bricks. People walk past them without a glance, treating them as they do anything ordinary, anything deemed unimportant. Days, weeks, months could pass, and no one would notice if the bricks moved or crumbled. But I watched. Why? Because I felt that there, in that corner, the bricks were hiding something. Something strange, something I couldn’t describe. My eyes traced their cracked lines as if searching for something buried in the stone by the passage of time.
Then came the day when the bricks moved. Or so I thought. At first, it was just a feeling, an invisible shift in the shadows at the edge of my vision. But then I began noticing small details. The edges seemed to change, new marks appeared on their surface. The bricks started to melt, started to breathe—or so I imagined. Perhaps they were speaking to me, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I would close my eyes and open them again, hoping to understand. The bricks were like a puzzle I couldn’t solve. And as I watched, I felt I was inching closer and closer to the answer.
Then the bricks began to disappear, piece by piece. Slowly, they pulled themselves into the wall. Was it me doing this? Was I just a watcher, or was I affecting their existence? I felt something strange stirring within me, as if I were changing. I can’t explain how. There was a desire to go deeper, to discover what lay beyond that wall, but I feared what I might uncover.
Today, there are no bricks. No wall remains. There’s no place left for my eyes to rest. Everything has turned into the void itself. In that moment, I felt something strange inside me. I thought about the bricks, about their cracked edges that disappeared just as I did. I thought about the moment everything vanished, and I realized I could not escape this place. Because, in truth, I had never tried to escape. I had always been here, in the corner, watching the bricks, watching myself fade away. Perhaps the bricks had been watching me all along.
There’s no explanation for what happened. Perhaps the bricks were just an illusion, or maybe I created them. I don’t know if I overcame them or became a part of them. What I do know is that when the bricks disappeared, so did I. Now, I can no longer be part of anything else. I cannot escape the corner where I stood, for it has become my very being. The bricks became a part of me, and I became a part of them. The more I tried to flee, the more I returned to the wall, to the void. I even began to wonder if I had entered another world, where time and space held no meaning.
Today, I find myself wondering: were the bricks simply a part of a parallel world, a world where nothing matters, where no one cares about where you exist? Were the bricks merely reflecting what was inside me? Was this corner the place where I had always been hiding?
The more I ponder these questions, the more helpless I feel. There is no longer an answer, for the answer was within the wall, within the bottomless void. I became the bricks. I became the void. And the more I tried to escape, the more I understood that escape was impossible, for in the end, I could only ever be a part of the place I had been watching.
