Whenever I think of walls, Pink Floyd’s Wall comes up. Roger Waters’ view was breakdown the wall. It’s a cynical view. He isolated himself in walls.

My view is that the walls are built not as a prison but to create solitude.

We need walls to live our lives. If you think about it, everything has its own walls. It’s there as boundaries to the needs of the human beings. Qin Shi Huang built the Great Wall to keep out the Mongols. That’s a need for protection of a sovereignty.

In nature, there are no walls, only the natural ones that we consider as walls. In theory, we shouldn’t have walls following nature, but we are of different species outside of nature. We are the only species that kill its own kind if you disagree. The walls are built to dispute, what is mine is mine, what is yours is yours. You build walls within your walls for your needs. Having walls for human beings are as natural as the nature itself. Thicker and stronger the better, like a safe to protect your valuables. A sheet of paper can be a wall as well. Anything to be hidden must have walls of some sort.

Metaphorically, it is used as to hide, protect, being alone and so on. But it’s never used as a comfort.

It is so defining that it gives me pleasure. It’s definite. Unlike anything that I’ve tried to get to know including an inner journey into myself. We are all confused before we die, but the wall is defining, it’s a line of clarity. We create lines in our heads and then transfer them to paper or a computer and then it becomes concrete boundaries. It becomes definite. We live inside those boundaries that we’ve created in our heads. We break them down, but we build new ones, according to the technology of the time.

I’m at an age where my body is wearing out like an old car. A car is machine, but machines age, too. The machine can be new again with replaced parts, but we don’t have spare parts readily available for us. And it needs to be a perfect match with our own DNA which is hard to find.

I used to hit my 7 iron 150 to 169 yards. Now, it only goes 125 at best no matter how hard I try to hit it longer. One day, I wouldn’t be able to lift the club itself. Deterioration is inevitable, death is certain. No one knows after that. I was putting on a pants in a scarcely decorated room with no furniture. I needed something to lean on to get my pants on. The last thing left to lean on was the wall.