Trauma

This keeps coming up in stories & books I read. The author will be setting up ssome structure, deveoping some genial, imperfect characters. I look for the early echoes, anticipating what will come next. Then. Shit. Plane hits tower. The whole infrastructure of my expectations is in ruins. My body is tingling. I remember the power of that symbol. Our great technology destroying itself. That iconic cannibalism.

Everytime. Everytime it hits me with a force almost phyiscal. I sit back for a minute, stunned, dazed. And then there is the ash. That unholy rain. Panic. Reassurance. Despair. Hope. Mourning.

It'll take years, decades for us to comprehend this trauma, its indelible imprint. That one time in our entire lives when the world was allowed to stop. That week when it did stop. Then the deafening noise we let follow.

I can't handle it.