Crisis of Consciousness
I was all set to write about our trip to New Orleans--a place that K says fills her with a sense of impending disaster--and how the Charlotte airport, like all airports, is fundamentally alienating in the way that inspired me to start this enterprise.
But I can't get that photograph out of my head.
I can't stop thinking about how half of my countrymen voted for this. How they presumably think that such atrocities committed in our names are somehow making us safer and not what an American flag will come to symbolize to these children when they are old enough to fire a shoulder-mounted missile or get on the subway with an innocent-looking backpack.
I can't stop thinking about the utter inadequacy of language to name this madness.
But I can't get that photograph out of my head.
I can't stop thinking about how half of my countrymen voted for this. How they presumably think that such atrocities committed in our names are somehow making us safer and not what an American flag will come to symbolize to these children when they are old enough to fire a shoulder-mounted missile or get on the subway with an innocent-looking backpack.
I can't stop thinking about the utter inadequacy of language to name this madness.