In those first years the roads were peopled with refugees shrouded up in their clothing. Wearing masks and goggles, sitting in their rags by the side of the road like ruined aviators. Their barrows heaped with shoddy. Towing wagons or carts. Their eyes bright in their skulls. Creedless shells of men tottering down the causeways like migrants in a feverland. The frailty of everything revealed at last. Old and troubling issues resolved into nothingness and night. The last instance of a thing takes the class with it. Turns out the light and is gone. Look around you. Ever is a long time. But the boy knew what he knew. That ever is no time at all.
In the early years of devastation, the roads became crowded with refugees, cloaked in layers of clothing. They donned masks and goggles, appearing as if they were lost pilots, reduced to sitting by the roadside in tattered rags, navigating the remnants of their former lives. Their carts, filled with dilapidated possessions, symbolized their struggle, while their bright eyes contrasted sharply with their frail, weary bodies. This vivid imagery underscores the harsh reality of their existence, stripped of meaning and purpose, as they stagger through a desolate landscape.
The passage suggests a deep sense of loss, illustrating how unresolved issues of the past have manifested into a bleak present, leaving individuals feeling as if everything familiar has dissolved into darkness. It reflects on the inevitable passage of time, emphasizing that what once seemed significant now holds little meaning. Yet, amidst this despair, the boy's awareness stands out—a recognition that time is fleeting, and the remnants of life are but shadows of their former selves. This poignant realization conveys the fragility of existence and the enduring impact of memory.
