Unlike the previous weeks, I'm not going to talk about the episode or the characters as it seems to ruff some feathers among the readers and commentators. Instead I'd like to talk about the harrowing beauty of the world of the Walking Dead.
It isn't by any counts a very nice place to live. There are dead everywhere, and no matter where you think you're safe, you're not because the moment one leaves the mortal coil you turn to one of them. One of the living nightmares that won't stop until someone splatters your brains over the walkway. And everyday that goes by more living are joining the ranks of the walking dead.
But if you take them out from the picture, the world that is left for you to live in is beautiful beyond words. The world where, there isn't television, radio, or music but just sounds of the nature and those noises that you make yourself. It could as well be the rustle of page turns, as you quietly wade through the stories of yesterworld and forget everything that's horrible out there.
And if you look the little details, the backgrounds, the settings, you start to see the stories of how we abandoned the civilisation and started living as nomadic tribes. Wanderers in the world, where little details quietly tell us so much about the stuff we left behind. So much about the world we're living.
World that feels safe, but if in snap of fingers, the zombie apocalypse would happen, we would be in deep doo-doo and nothing that we have would save us from the inevitable. And all that stuff, you see right now around you, would be lost. You just couldn't be living the life as you used to as you can see what's happening to Rich and his grew.
And the only way you could go back to that world, would be books and articles, musical instrument and recordings, and stories that the oldies would be telling to each other.