But I can't stop watching this. The moment of brightness, the moment of darkness, the brightness again. The cars slow for almost a second. The still beauty of the contrail, the baby crying, the patient faces of the injured, the young policeman's expression as he makes himself look busy, kicking the broken glass around the floor. This one's good too. This one too: the car alarms!
From the airplane I could see the Rocky Mountains. I could see canyons, suburbs, snow. In the airport I walked around and bought a sandwich and a coffee and a giant chocolate chip cookie and learned that San Bernardino cops burned Christopher Dorner alive. On the airplane, the woman next to me read a book. "Dedicate yourself to leadership growth," said the book. "The workplace has become more pleasant for everyone." I took the above photo the day I left, in the West Bank village of Al-Walaja just south and east of Jerusalem (or, if you prefer, north and west of Bethlehem). Israel is building a wall around the village. All the way around it. The wall, you understand, is not a single contiguous barrier. The wall is many walls. I'm not being metaphorical. One home will remain outside the wall, cut off by the Israelis-only road to the nearby settlements of Gilo and Har Gilo. That home will be surrounded by a barrier of its own, most likely not a concrete wall, but a high chain-link and barbed-wire fence. It will be its own island, isolated from the village and the fields and olive groves in the valley below. A tunnel will connect it to the village. The tunnel has already been built. You can see it in the picture. Inside it, someone has spray-painted the words "Free Palestine." Here is a photo of the wall, still incomplete:
“If one can say that imagination is better than reality, art is even better because it’s the dream of every structure’s collapse and at the same time the dream of the construction of new structures.”
—from Serena Vitale, Shklovsky: Witness to an Era