The ruined and partially buired Roman town-city can never relive its horror of the catastrophic eruption of the legendary volcano--Mount Vesuvius. However, the ashes did not last for long before a new generation began to reconstruct that trace of land into their Eden. With the Harvard red, aquamarine blue and snow white, you look motionless, graceful and solemn. Every time I peep down from 15 metres platform or gaze from 20 metres afar, I doubt the existence of life within you.
A brand-new week, with flocks of students sworming through the narrow gate, into your body, into your self, I know that you are relived. It is everybody's genuine grievance to see the green grass on you being pulled out, bulldozer tramping upon your body, scratching off your skin and exposing your wounds to the pouring rain. You look vulnerable in their hands, unable even to protest.
You fall into silent meditation, as you always do.
The downpour blurred our vision, only leaving you to scrutinise your wounds, torn out and sprayed with dirty water.
Someone away from you for hundreds of kilometres once asked," Hey! What happened to the land, what are you gonna do with it?"
"Oh, the land, the land..."
The land, is diminishing. It is gradually walking out of our memory, it is going to become something in the past.
I remember once when I walked up inside you I saw a woman walking her dog on the land. The dog was loistering around on the lawn. Was the dog aware that soon the land would be replaced by a HDB flat? To house people?
That reminds me of Pompeii again. It had not been rediscovered until 1700 years after its collapse. Now let's hope you can rediscover youself again, on the ruins, on the loss, on the changes.
I walk inside you and know that you are still vibrantly alive...