Tuesday, August 15, 2006

the gangrenous head of terror

Within the precints of this portal a few months ago I had remarked, rather nonchalantly and with my nonsense of humour, on the possibility of the the person next to me being a potential bomb. With its utter lack of respect for sapiens jokes, life barked back.

It could have been worse...

A few metres from my office, an inhuman bomb detonated itself yesterday. A dull Thud, followed a second later by a less dull Thud, the echo of the earlier T. The gravity of it actually happening in front of your ears sinks in the moment the floor beneath you has stopped shaking and the windows have stopped rattling. The windows might have been shatterproof, but lives are not. The fact that people have been taken away from us in the same shameless manner that their bodies have been consigned to vapour at a spot that I had walked past a couple of hours earlier hurts; a cloud of smoke, mostly human remains, rises.

Some yells, and people frantically running towards the spot to help (as opposed to running away, that was fantastic), but what help can you provide a child who was found in the drain a few yards away?

The absence of sensibility compensated by an overwhelming sense of, whatsit called, terror?

All you guys who got in touch - thanks for the concern, it was very sweet of you to have checked. Things back to normal, the roads cleaned up, another day.

Business as usual.

Hmmm... Wtf

... it is the juxtaposition in the mind of the audience between the spoken word of the author and the simple directed-but-uninflected action of the actor which creates the ineluctable idea of character in the mind of the audience...
Mamet from True and False ...

Ooooo! That's so much simpler then...