Thursday, March 1, 2012
Too sad now, and surreal, to play that song about running from the cold up in New England. In silence we tried to find more information on stubbornly slow phones that blinked in and out of reception.
I felt as if I was at the aquarium, watching strange fish swimming through their dark tank, palms pressed against the glass. Inches away from this weird, unrecognizable world, yet so completely removed.
That's what it was like to be in the car, breathing, watching the road through the windshield. In my head the sound of snow breaking over and over, wind roaring, the feel of a mountainside suddenly liquid and moving beneath my feet. I had to force my eyes open, sit up straight in the passenger seat. Not us, I said to myself. Not us.