The scent of the airbag is surprising, the glow of the flames very familiar, the combination is disorienting. As if he needed more of that. There is probably blood but he's in no hurry to find out. Past the flaming hood of his civic, the road stretches out to a black point, two lines whose intersection harmonizes into imperative rather than emphasis. He reaches for the seat belt before he can remember that he never uses it. His finger traces the empty smile of the clasp, then he coughs. The flesh knows what matters. He is standing on the road envisioning with unmitigated clarity every step that could have brought him here, but unable to actually remember any of them. He starts walking towards the convergence, very careful not to blink.
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3 comments:
A strange way to begin, but I like it. I really enjoy the idea of merging text and photo, complimenting or subverting each other. I imagine the light in the story to be very different from the photograph. I imagine sunset or bright blinding midday. In fact, the photo seems so orderly compared to the paragraph. They seem more like parallel stories ending rather than one story with two components, almost like the photo is the opposite: no crash, no people.
I am not sure how I feel about the image with text. it is something that draws me in but not something I really want to associate with the imagery in the text.
my own private idaho
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