Looking back on it now, I don't think anybody had the energy to listen or change course either.
So we waited. Too tired to stay... awake, too worried to fall asleep. An hour passed, a whole hour before we decided on something along the lines of 'fuck it, let's get this finished and pass out or something.' Kinda funny how easily affected by emotions we were back then. With immediate fatigue clouding our minds, we decided to risk the two months of planning, preparing in secret - do you know how hard it is for high school boys to keep something they're actively working on as a secret for two months? Anyway, we were risking all that, just because we were 'tired'. Kinda silly.
Or was it brave and decisive. Time hazes my memory. I think we knew that it might get rainy for a while after that day; plus, we wanted to see the full effect of our actions while we would still be around. So we decided. We decided to act, and let the chips fall where they may.
We departed a good hour before daybreak. A whole hour of waiting, then a whole hour until daybreak. We'd be making finishing touches in the dark. The drive was silent, our 60 days of labour packed carefully in flimsy plastic containers in the boot/trunk. The drive was bumpy smooth. The drive is the part I remember least.
We set to work as soon as we arrived. Little was said between us. The fatigue set in like morning dew: sweet, heavy, wet, omnipresent. We kept busy at our tasks under the grey sky - the dawn kept busy at its. It didn't take long. The work was finished without ceremony, and we just... sat there.
I thought for sure I'd just collapse into sleep after it was done, but I stayed awake. Reasons? Plenty. I wanted to see the reactions to what we've done. I didn't want anybody destroying what we've displayed. One thing I didn't expect was how I'd be so captivated by the dawn light catching the familiar landscape and skyline. One thing or another kept me awake.
As we were emptying our minds and becoming vessels of sublime truth (...or spacing out), people arrived. Astonished. Shocked? Confused. Amazed, maybe. We didn't factor in how tired we'd be by then. Too tired to read emotions, acknowledge, care or respond.
We had achieved something, but the final journey had become such a process that we were no longer connected.
The means devastated the ends."
Epi.
The project, consisting of 1,000 paper cranes folded from 10cm by 10cm squares of coloured paper of various pastel tones, sewn together in columns to form a cascading rainbow curtain, was taken down in less than an hour since the initial discovery by the first witness. The reason for the dismantling was due to risk of destruction of the project, as reasoned by staff. It was reconstructed as a single line of paper cranes arranged in cascading colours, then hung up in the bell tower on site for safekeeping.
Legend has it that folding 1,000 paper cranes grant the folder a wish. It was later revealed that all three participants (all of whom who participated in the folding of the cranes) of the project wished the same wish: that their work would not be immediately destroyed.
So... this is an actual thing that happened. The whole monologue and epilogue were written to be dramatic, but the experience is bona fide. I folded 1,000 paper cranes with two of my friends back in high school, as a sort of really weird senior year prank. It's weird, we didn't know who we were supposed to be pranking in what way, especially since we weren't really inconveniencing anybody. I guess we just wanted to be remembered.
This was lifted almost directly from my Facebook post I made about 12 hours ago. I removed the tagline (with a bunch of tags) and two words ('Sorry, Z.'). The two words were in reference to my friend, Z, who drove that day. Sorry I don't remember much of the drive, I was a bit too tired I think.
Basilonian Apocalypse is just something I refer to on my Facebook sometimes, usually by adding "Excerpt from Basilonian Apocalypse" at the end. It's an autobiography, which hasn't been published or even written up (and probably will never be?).
So we waited. Too tired to stay... awake, too worried to fall asleep. An hour passed, a whole hour before we decided on something along the lines of 'fuck it, let's get this finished and pass out or something.' Kinda funny how easily affected by emotions we were back then. With immediate fatigue clouding our minds, we decided to risk the two months of planning, preparing in secret - do you know how hard it is for high school boys to keep something they're actively working on as a secret for two months? Anyway, we were risking all that, just because we were 'tired'. Kinda silly.
Or was it brave and decisive. Time hazes my memory. I think we knew that it might get rainy for a while after that day; plus, we wanted to see the full effect of our actions while we would still be around. So we decided. We decided to act, and let the chips fall where they may.
We departed a good hour before daybreak. A whole hour of waiting, then a whole hour until daybreak. We'd be making finishing touches in the dark. The drive was silent, our 60 days of labour packed carefully in flimsy plastic containers in the boot/trunk. The drive was bumpy smooth. The drive is the part I remember least.
We set to work as soon as we arrived. Little was said between us. The fatigue set in like morning dew: sweet, heavy, wet, omnipresent. We kept busy at our tasks under the grey sky - the dawn kept busy at its. It didn't take long. The work was finished without ceremony, and we just... sat there.
I thought for sure I'd just collapse into sleep after it was done, but I stayed awake. Reasons? Plenty. I wanted to see the reactions to what we've done. I didn't want anybody destroying what we've displayed. One thing I didn't expect was how I'd be so captivated by the dawn light catching the familiar landscape and skyline. One thing or another kept me awake.
As we were emptying our minds and becoming vessels of sublime truth (...or spacing out), people arrived. Astonished. Shocked? Confused. Amazed, maybe. We didn't factor in how tired we'd be by then. Too tired to read emotions, acknowledge, care or respond.
We had achieved something, but the final journey had become such a process that we were no longer connected.
The means devastated the ends."
Epi.
The project, consisting of 1,000 paper cranes folded from 10cm by 10cm squares of coloured paper of various pastel tones, sewn together in columns to form a cascading rainbow curtain, was taken down in less than an hour since the initial discovery by the first witness. The reason for the dismantling was due to risk of destruction of the project, as reasoned by staff. It was reconstructed as a single line of paper cranes arranged in cascading colours, then hung up in the bell tower on site for safekeeping.
Legend has it that folding 1,000 paper cranes grant the folder a wish. It was later revealed that all three participants (all of whom who participated in the folding of the cranes) of the project wished the same wish: that their work would not be immediately destroyed.
So... this is an actual thing that happened. The whole monologue and epilogue were written to be dramatic, but the experience is bona fide. I folded 1,000 paper cranes with two of my friends back in high school, as a sort of really weird senior year prank. It's weird, we didn't know who we were supposed to be pranking in what way, especially since we weren't really inconveniencing anybody. I guess we just wanted to be remembered.
This was lifted almost directly from my Facebook post I made about 12 hours ago. I removed the tagline (with a bunch of tags) and two words ('Sorry, Z.'). The two words were in reference to my friend, Z, who drove that day. Sorry I don't remember much of the drive, I was a bit too tired I think.
Basilonian Apocalypse is just something I refer to on my Facebook sometimes, usually by adding "Excerpt from Basilonian Apocalypse" at the end. It's an autobiography, which hasn't been published or even written up (and probably will never be?).
