¶ … Spin
Voice of Ciaran:
New York became just like my Irish home during this time. The same sounds, the same smells, the same feelings. Time became fluid and ungraspable. Death, despair and hopelessness took different forms ignoring the linear nature of the unfolding of events.
I looked at my brother and thought he is not real, he is not human. Perhaps we are just dreams and images of something or someone else. Shit, I could care right now...What is past, what is now. The August heat melts away the possibilities of the future with an uncompromising glow and desperate persistence.
How does humanity survive, or better yet, why does it...
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