Abstract

The walls are solid and mighty. Constantly gazing at them causes me to hallucinate. Three years have passed, yet this unreal feeling still strikes back at me as I occasionally cast a quick glance at the walls. Is this a prison? Who can prove to me that it's real? Perhaps it's real, or maybe unreal. Perhaps it is a punishment for evil, and yet perhaps it is evil itself … Alas, it is evil only when it becomes an object of judgment and then it is even more distinct, just like at an exhibition where people wearing white gloves point at things and say: "See this here, see that there." However, once it becomes experience itself, filling the space between the wall and me, how can a judgement be made? Am I the "criminal?" I tore up the list of "regulations governing criminals." When the cadre questions me: "What the hell are you doing?" I reply: "You know in the past when I wrote the character for ‘criminal’ I never paid much attention and now I just noticed that it contains the ‘dog radical’ and I hate it." The cadre starts yelling: "Criminals are not humans. They are dogs."