East/West

“If Walls could talk,”East said

“That’s rude,” said West. “We talk all the time. Not our fault they don’t listen.”

“They’ve painted it with that spray paint too. That won’t come off easy.”

“Savages!”

“Adds a bit of colour I suppose. All a bit grey here usually.”

“Still.”

“Yeah.”

“They paint me all time,” West said, “You get used to it.”

“Doesn’t hurt. Be nice if they asked though.”

“Yeah.

…

Almost shot someone yesterday.”

“How’d you manage that?”

“Not personally, obviously, being a wall and all that. Fella got through from your side. They shot at him but he got away.”

“That hasn’t happened for a while. They used to do it all the time, remember?”

“Can’t forget,” West said, “That chap who lay there for hours, shouting for help. They all just stood there and watched.”

“Not sure what’s so good on your side that they keep trying to get over?”

“No idea. Doesn’t look like all that much, but, then again, I’m just a wall.”

“They were talking about that Eastern Block collapsing again, but it still seems to be here.”

“They’re looking forward to it here too. I expect it’ll draw quite the crowd once it goes.”

“Not sure which one it is, but I’ll shout if I see it start to go.”

“I expect I’ll hear it.”

“I expect so.”

A few months later.

“Heads up, West. Looks like something’s kicking off.”

“Really? Quiet on this side.”

“They’re all here trying to get through. Some of them have suitcases. Is it Christmas again?”

“That’s a while away yet.”

“No one’s shooting. I guess that’s a good sign.”

“Oh, I see them all now. You weren’t kidding, there’s hundreds of them.”

“Thousands.”

“They’re coming to meet them on this side,” said West. “They’re happy! They’re crying and cheering, hugging and, Hey, watch where you’re spraying that!, drinking champagne.”

“That’s nice. Oh, look out, they’re just climbing over me now. Use the gates! Bloody rude.”

“Did that eastern block collapse? Did we miss it? Is that why they’re all here?”

“Didn’t see it if it did. This must be something else. The soldiers aren’t doing much. Maybe they’re all friends again. They certainly seem to be.”

“East?”

“Yeah?”

“I have a feeling our days as a useful wall are numbered.”

“Surely not. We’ve been here for years. Granted, I don’t feel much use right now with them climbing all over me, but-“

“Oh, dear!”

“What’s happening?”

“Some of them have hammers. Big hammers. And … is that a pick-axe?”

“…”

“Yeah, they’re starting to break me up. They’re very exuberant. It’s almost like they’re glad to be rid of me.”

“This doesn’t sound good.”

“East?”

“Still here.”

“Did no one like us?”

“Hadn’t really thought about it. How can you not like a wall? A lot of people did pee on me, now I think about it, but I never took it personally. Figured it was just part of the whole, being a wall…thing.”

“Someone just ran off with a bit of me. That’s weird.”

“See, they must like us if they want to keep a piece of us.”

“That’s true. They’re really getting stuck in about me now. Not even bothering with tools anymore. They’ll be through to you before long.”

“At least I’ll get to see what your side is like before we go.”

“…”

“You okay? You’ve gone quiet.”

“Do you think we’ll be remembered?”

“I doubt it, we’re only a wall.”

“Be nice though, wouldn’t it? Maybe have someone write a song about us.”

“About a wall? Whose gonna write a song about a wall?”

“Dunno. They write songs about all sorts these days. They sometimes sit near me and sing them…or they used to. Or maybe we’ll end up in a museum. I bet that bit that fella ran off with will end up in a museum. People will come and see us after we’re gone. ‘There’s a bit of West,’ they’ll say, ‘he was a proper wall.’”

“Is your mind going, West? Is that what happens when they start to dismantle you?”

“No. I’m fine. Plenty of me left yet. Just wondering aloud. As we near the end.”

“You really think this is the end?”

“They’re slowing down, but, look around you, East. How long have we been here? Have you ever seen everyone together like this? And this happy? I think we were made to keep them apart but they’ve found a way around us.”

“Were…were we a bad wall?”

“We were a good wall, East. We were a good wall. They don’t want us anymore, but, when the dust settles, I think they’ll look back and remember us fondly.”

“I’d like that. That’d be nice.”

9th November 1989

Berlin, Germany