Thursday, July 24, 2008


Here's a weird, sweeping thought I had today. I tried to capture the feeling by the way I wrote the following:

I left the world for two years.

When I boarded a plane bound for the most isolated city on the planet, on August 16, 2001, I didn't know what the world had in store. No one did. The unfathomable coming days, and months.

26 days later, the world changed. A loss of innocence. Gone were the days of leisurely air travel.

Drastic measures were taken. Metal detectors. Meticulous carry-on exams. Belt removal. Shoe removal. Orange alert levels.

Business and economy would change. Enron. Corporate corruption paved the way for the economic equivalent of airport security.

The world vaulted into war.

"A war we shouldn't be fighting," they say. "Bring our kids home."

Terrorism. Fighting terrorism. Rumors of wars.

Nightly news fear-mongering. Body counts. Toxins. New cancers and scourges.

Touchdown on earth June 26, 2003. The sun still shone. The sky still stark blue. Birds still sang. Is there melancholy in their song? Perhaps.

For days gone by.

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