One day I got tired, marched to the city center, picked the ugliest houses, grabbed the corners and swung them upside down. I dragged the construction debris outside the city, left behind pieces of the foundations of the houses, from which I built a wall around the area.

I blocked the roads around.
Dust slowly began to settle.

I build retaining walls from the rubble that came off the foundations, and walkways from the gravel.

I planted trees, they grew big and bare.

Passers-by wandered in. Someone knelt down on the ground at the other end of the area and started to roll boulders into plant beds, or smoothing the gravel slowly with their fingers.
Some remained quietly seated, and gradually their faces became tense, their cheeks began to droop

and they faded to a still stones in this park,
which is still colorless,
with bare branched large trees,
beds with dead plants growing,
with
bone-like thorny branches
and flowers whose petals have also lost their color, settled, or fallen.

You can hear the dim sound of gravel through your fingers, and creaks from different parts of the yard.

Melodyless sounds,
empty spaces
barren, vast land
A long unhindered wind,

silent weather

From series MAHDOTON KAUPUNKI / A Strange Place