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| Victory is an illusion for philosophers and fools, wrote one. Life is a walking shadow, a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, wrote another. But those domesticated writers never stood among these five figures draped over the tank like wild woods arching over a mountain. The self-titled peaceful and wise are merely idle and cynical. The dead intellectual sees the material of another’s clothing and can find his coordinates on a map but finds a way to carefully outline the very border of one’s invincible body and immortal face, and discard it from memory, history, and value. These five young men stood together, full of victory, overshadowed by nothing, wordless stories in themselves needing no prologue, and the only sounds accompanying them were praise and cheers. The uniform did not live on without the heroes, but the heroes moved on without the uniforms. [Pete Bradt] |
