The termination of a resource no longer being used by mental means. The ruins still stand taller. The debris of me. I look at the remains, which still look proud of themselves. Stray bullet marks across the walls seem the only damage that I had to take. There were no shells, no bombers. The marks on the wall scarcely look lethal. But the damage is not for one to see. Something that made the walls living, proud and happy has left. The walls still stand, grease marks and saplings growing between cracks. Dust settled in little crevices seems to drift with the air, but there is more left.
There are people around. People living amidst the ruins. Kids slinging stones over the highest wall. Females foraging for leftovers that can be sold. The people have made this their home, their shelter. The absence of a door. Perhaps meant welcome to them, to those who had no house. Their side of the wall is clean, replastered and the floor retiled. They guard the house as the house guards them. Is it?
A kid jumps over the parapet wall towards his house. He stops near the broken window. A circular crevice filled with sand, the remains of the war. The kid runs inside and comes back with a stick. Poking through the sand in the crevice, he manages to push most of the sand out.
It still hurts.
