nature is ruthless and eternal. ruined trees were there long before ruined castles. scars left by storms are indistinguishable from those left by war. webs cut short more lives than fishing nets. there are no roads in abandoned lands. the way was blocked by a black 3-way barrier, once impassable. there is nothingness of flatlands behind, veiled in rice fog. little by little, the outlines of walls and pointed roofs of a palace become visible. lightning punches through roofing with more ease than a flaming arrow. red flames become black smoke pillars that ascend into the wrathful sky. the clamor of thousands of birds heading towards the battlefield near the waterfall drowns out the peal of thunder. black and white wings obscure the clouds. their erratic flitting dazzles the eyes. you can hardly see anything. banners have long decayed to dust or were torn apart by crows to make nests. parched rice fields are buried under a layer of ashes. everything is monochrome, and only the pale blue reflection of the moon in the overgrown pool stands out. will-o'-the-wisps lead you into the woods. it’s growing dark, but you can’t see the forest behind the trees. you can't tell south from north or day from night. black branches don’t let in the light from the celestial spheres. wounds on tree bark left by boar tusks show which path you should avoid. animals can harm nature as badly as oil. webs hanging from the bones of trees cast white shadows. the dead forest turns phantasmal.
Evgeny Kuzmichev
