![]() ![]() Windows missing in every edifice like broken teeth, fierce gusts of gritty wind, and a gray high sky full of ravens.īelize: Prophet birds, Roy. ![]() On every corner a wrecking crew and something new and crooked going up catty corner to that. Overgrown with weeds, but flowering weeds. Longing for what we’ve left behind, and dreaming ahead. In this world, there’s a kind of painful progress. And the souls of these departed joined hands, clasped ankles, and formed a web, a great net of souls, and the souls were three-atom oxygen molecules of the stuff of ozone, and the outer rim absorbed them and was repaired. ![]() ![]() But I saw something that only I could see because of my astonishing ability to see such things: Souls were rising, from the earth far below, souls of the dead, of people who had perished, from famine, from war, from the plague, and they floated up, like skydivers in reverse, limbs all akimbo, wheeling and spinning. The plane leapt the tropopause, the safe air, and attained the outer rim, the ozone, which was ragged and torn, patches of it threadbare as old cheesecloth, and that was frightening. When we hit 35,000 feet we’ll have reached the tropopause, the great belt of calm air, as close as I’ll ever get to the ozone. God, it’s been years since I was on a plane. “Night flight to San Francisco chase the moon across America. ![]()
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