the end of the world - photo zine - ENG

THE END OF THE WORLD

luca lauricella

THE END OF THE WORLD In a small and ghostly town, which insurmountable walls separate from the rest of the world, the inhabitants, devoid of shadow and feelings, live away from any emotion.

«The Gatekeeper picks up a scrap of wood and expertly pares it down to a tiny sliver. “Watch this,” he says. He runs the sliver of wood between the bricks. It hardly penetrates a fraction of an inch.

He tosses the wood away, and draws the tip of his knife over the bricks. This produces an awful sound, but leaves not a mark. He examines his knife, then puts it away.

“This Wall has no mortar,” the Gatekeeper states. “There is no need. The bricks fit perfect; not a hair-space between them. Nobody can put a dent in the Wall. And nobody can climb it. Because this Wall is perfect. So forget any ideas you have. Nobody leaves here.” The Gatekeeper lays a giant hand on my back. “You have to endure. If you endure, everything will be fine. No worry, no suffering. It all disappears. Forget about the shadow. This is the End of the World. This is where the world ends. Nowhere further to go.”»

Haruki Murakami, Hard boiled wonderland and the end of the world, chap. 10: The wall

«There is a place for the beasts outside the Gate. An enclosure where they sleep at night, transversed by a stream that gives them drink. Beyond that are apple trees, as far as the eye can see, vast wooded seas that stretch on and on.

“Nobody but you watches the animals,” says the Gatekeeper. “You just got here, though. You get used to living here, and things fall into place. You lose interest in them. Everybody does.”»

Haruki Murakami, Hard boiled wonderland and the end of the world, chap. 2: Golden beasts

ÂŤStrolling the Hill, one can imagine its former splendor: children playing gaily in the streets, piano music in the air, warm supper scents. Memories feign through scarcely perceived doors of my being.Âť Haruki Murakami, Hard boiled wonderland and the end of the world, chap. 8: The colonel

«I shake my head. Do I mean this as a “no”, or is it only that I do not know?

“I just want to find out about the Town,” I say. “The lay of the land, the history, the people… I want to know who made the rules, what has sway over us. I want even to know what lies beyond.”

She slowly rolls her head, then fixes upon my eyes. “There is no beyond,” she says. “Did you not know? We are at the End of the World. We are here forever.”»

Haruki Murakami, Hard boiled wonderland and the end of the world, chap. 12: A map of the end of the world

ÂŤThe heavy wooden door makes a scraping noise as I push it open. I find a long straight hallway before me. The air is dusty and stale, an atmosphere the years have forsaken. The floorboards are worn where once tread upon, the plaster walls yellowed to the color of the light bulbs. There are doors on either side of the hallway, each doorknob with a layer of white dust. The only unlocked door is at the end, a delicate frosted glass panel behind which shines lamplight. I rap upon this door, but there is no answer.Âť Haruki Murakami, Hard boiled wonderland and the end of the world, chap. 4: The library

ÂŤThe threads of light are so fine that despite how I concentrate the energies in my fingertips, I am incapable of unravelling the chaos of vision. Even so, I clearly sense the presence of dreams at my fingertips. It is a busy current, an endless stream of images. My fingers are as yet unable to grasp any distinct message, but I do apprehend an intensity there.Âť Haruki Murakami, Hard boiled wonderland and the end of the world, chap. 6: Shadow

ÂŤFrom the slope of the Hill where stand the Official Residences, one looks out over the western half of the Town: the River, the Clocktower, the Wall, and far in the distance, the Gate in the west.

My weak eyes behind black glasses cannot distinguish greater detail, although I have the impression that the winter air must give the Town a clarity.Âť Haruki Murakami, Hard boiled wonderland and the end of the world, chap. 16: The coming of winter

«“At first, it was only intuition that told me the Town had an exit, for the very reason that the perfection of the Town must include all possibilities. Therefore, if an exit is our wish, an exit is what we get. […] I believe that if we give ourselves over to the water, the flow of the River will lead us out. Out of the Town and back to a real world. […] It’s not the best of all worlds,” says my shadow.

“I make no promises, but it is the world where we belong. There will be good and bad. There will be neither good nor bad.”»

Haruki Murakami, Hard boiled wonderland and the end of the world, chap. 38: Escape