Today the world ended and was reborn in an instant, out of the sheetrock and neatly filed papers, let loose in the sky, all those things that no longer seem important.
On TV, the path of a jet from Boston is traced out, over the ponds and
streams and mountains and lakes where I was born, over the Berkshire
Connector, over the road to Montreal.
Banking swiftly into a straight line with that feeling you get when
history is ripped free of itself and the universe that had been falls
away.
What we feel in the pit of our stomach, when a tsunami breaks in the quantum foam, when the underlying connections are ripped clean for an instant. And the true humanity of it all is made plain by an exodus of human beings, people walking calmly and quietly, hand in hand, helping the injured, making their way together across the bridge of time.
