the first time I came back from East Africa:
The island in the dark. Tiki torches. The gutted plane. The steward? Yes, they call them so? Male flight attendant. The story: you are on an island. There is this much light here. You have a chance now to go home. Yes? You will have to travel into the dark, dark, dark. the storm over the ocean. Are you willing?
Is it safe?
No.
Will I survive?
Maybe.
Would you do it?
No.
(the only way home)
I go. I choose to go. (and today?)
No comments:
Post a Comment