föstudagur, mars 27, 2020

svá sem

What is it like, it like:

This time the plane is enormous. It approaches the Towers as in a slow-motion film, but not in a film, because I see it live (though it brings death, death). It has been coming for weeks, and I have been watching it come.

The nose has (slowly, slowly) pushed through the glass window. The fractures spider out from it further and further.

It does not slow.

There is roaring in my ears and a drone in my heart.

Hvaðan þið eruð