I decided to use a different style today. This is from a piece I wrote long time ago.
I associate my life to sitting in a plane cabin. You are told to buckle up. They tell you repeatedly how dangerous it could be. You are bored, so you switched on the in-flight entertainment. Your meals are served; they’re part of the package; the overall experience of an air flight. Some people sit in the economy, some in the business, and some in first class. Each class has specific number of seats. Perhaps they are aware that there are only a few rich people and many poor people. And some even have their own private jets: these are usually presidents. I remember fondly the moments when the food came and I was given a choice between oriental and international. I ignored the fact that their definitions of oriental and international seemed a little inconsistent. I also realized that they usually didn’t seem to have a lot of choices (perhaps the first class passengers would have but I never sat as one before). The most choices given were the entertainment channels. I could choose the many movies available. And they were usually the latest films. Of course, I had to bear with the uncomfortable seat and the tiny screen before me. Not forgetting the occasional harassment from my neighbour, as he or she would need to head to the toilet, and at this point, I am reminded of the experience of the toilet. I once entered the toilet, asking myself where all the waste went to. Are they sucked down to some unknown realm? It also felt like a miracle, so much so that I would marvel at technology and its convenience, though at the back of my mind, I still pondered how the manure had been dealt with. Within such a compact space, one could sometimes find a power-point for the shaver, endless rolls of paper and a little corner to change diapers (not that I needed them). I particularly liked the big mirror that shows how pathetic I was with that lack of sleep. I also marveled at how easy people could sleep on the plane and the volume of their snoring. Back to the in-flight entertainment, I realised that there weren’t that many choices after all. The only choice I seem to have was to sleep. It was a long haul plane. I often lose track of time and space. I needed the map on the screen to inform me of my coordinates, the temperature outside, the wind speed, the altitude, plane speed, and distance away, etc., and not to forget the various languages available. Frankly, I had no idea what I can do with that information. The plane flew. The plane would land soon. Bringing me to another land. The journey ended. The journey ends. It has since been 2 years since I last took a plane.
the terrorist is sacred.
imagine there is one sitting right next to me now.
A: are you alright?
T: (silent)...sorry. I'm praying.
A: O. I'm sorry. But I just thought you looked really pale. I thought you're having motion sickness.
T: No.
A: Ok.
a few minutes passed.
A: Are you really okay? You're shaking.
T: Yes. (pause) I am okay.
A: Hi. I'm ...
T: Assalam alaikum
A: Which means?
T: Peace to you.
A: Are you a Muslim?
T: Yes.
A: But...
T: I don't look like Muslim?
A: Well...at least, I wasn't sure why you, though I presume an European, would say Arabic to me.
T: I'm American.
A: And your name?
T: Just call me Lucas.
A: Ok. (pause long while) So are you okay?
L: Thank you for your concern. I am fine. I just need to pray.
A: First time flying?
L: Last time.
A: Haha. You mean you're so afraid that you won't fly again?
L: No.
A: Then?
L: Just no. (looks away)
A: (pause) Well. If you need help, just tell me ok?
L: Thank you.
A: Ok. (goes back to watch his show)
L: (he prays but begins to shake violently)
A: (looks back at him) Are you okay?
L: I must do what I must do. (he stands)
A: (this is when I felt as if I am staring at death) hey...
as Lucas stood up. I saw an angel; A fallen one, who spreads his wings to cover a sin that stretches generations. This is too much for one to bear. Somehow I realise, he really has to do what he is going to do.
The terrorist is sacred, as he approaches the end of the infinite. The end of the eternal. The fulfilment of a prophecy.
Each burning of the page.
to end the book
to deliver Chronos and Logos to the final page,
to begin eternity
where presence can only appear with the appearance of absence
presence must not be proud.
Forever we cannot stop the imagination,
of evil in its most transparent self, sitting right next to you,
with torn feathers,
and a burden, not even his cousins could remove;
he approaches the silence,
in a prayer no one can hear,
except a dread, an anxiety, or a pure silence and void,
that he must take that step of destiny,
and do what he must
to exist as a speculation.
L walks halfway down the aisle. He vomits.
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