Holy fuck did this thing get intense in the last paragraph, in the story I mean, in the book, that story, it got insanely intense. Like it vibrated, man. It moved. There's a slow tension that mounts into something that never seems to explode, just hangs over the events the ending. Like a jumpy photo, smeared, clear, only the face, only the face comes out clear, the face of some wistful woman as she walks in a (graveyard?) (park?) (underpass?); black dress that runs like water-logged ink over smooth fresh paper, in a green, green area around her that looks like its hiding its deathface well; no, it's not a dress, it's an overcoat, what's underneath?, nothing it seems; she's got something in her hand, something obscured from by her hip, you'll never know what it is; violently red lips, she has a look on her face like perplexity, like surprise, like someone just called her name and its a voice of someone she hadnt expected to be there, and she's not a afraid, she wont be afraid for a long time not after everything not after everything; and everything's shook, the photo, slick digi printed, looks so odd in your hand, it wont stop shaking, in spite of the steadiness with which it's held, there's the fuzz of movement, the blur of taking away something from the world, taking an image of the world, quick fast fast fast, taking it before the world could shy away and now she's there, the woman's there, she's there; her heels are sharp against the earth, like tent spikes. That's what the tension's like in "Accident". That's what its tension feels like, like you'll never really know, you'll never really get inside it without eviscerating it.
No comments:
Post a Comment