..its fucking horrendous. Biggest European terrorist attack since Lockerbie.
No one is sure if it's ETA or Al.Q yet.
Stream of conciousness from me...doesn't make sense. Not really meant to i guess. nearly cried on the way to work listening to the radio and after watching the images on TV.
another ordinary day begins with the persistent cry of the alarm
as i awake the mobile phone vibrates wildly and tries to scuttle accross the cold wooden floor
casually and with tired habit, i make my way to the bathroom, switching on the tv as i pass
i ignore it as the black tube groans into life with an empty static-electric buzz and crackle
before closing the bathroom door the news begins mid-sentance, a female news-anchor, blonde i imagine for some reason
the channel the same as the night before -
then it was all stories about celebrities and sport and funding for education and childhood obesity
as i shower i hear the sound of sirens from the television
a blue wailing muffled by steam and the hiss of water beating down on the shower curtain and my tired skin
but there's an uneasiness in the saturated air
a feeling of something not quite right
a sense of ill, something sickened, sickening
the blonde female news-anchor's tone more serious than usual
the intonation in her words more insistent
there is something unsettling in my early-morning cigarette head-rush
sharper, more lucid than the clarity the world takes on
during my frequent 5am panic attacks
slowly, and with re-newed tiredness from the warnth of the shower, i stroll to the living room
and slump, wearing only a towel and with short wet hair, in front of the glow of the television
the images burn into my retina
images now so familiar and yet never easily digested by my mind
I see but can't imagine;
the sight of bent twisted wreckage, once a train; ambulances; police; chaos; fear; abject terror
I hear but can't imagine;
the sound of sharp blue wrenching of metal; screams still echoing in the humid air; screams cut short in an instant; the hateful roar of fire, vengeful in the knowledge it has a foothold; sick triumphalism.
the taste of blood on a lip from a head wound
a sterile antisceptic smell mingles with the scent of a warm day
politics waits, lurks down a dark alley
biding its time
in slowly creeps
the first sound bites prepared
eager and champing at the bit to be aired
the conclusion of bar-room arguments ended 6 months ago with a 'dont say i didn't warn you'
are you happy now?
do you sit back in a chair and smile with grim, evil satisfaction?
are you truly pleased with the chaos wreaked upon us, the terror?
families ripped apart without reason or without a goodbye
bright young futures stolen
all potential for good lost
shattered lives and dreams drift silently away
up into the clear sky in a billowing black plume of smoke
ashes of the dead
spread over a city in shock
a country in mourning
i lost my grandmother to old age on new years eve
i lost my cousin to cancer at 21
i lost a friend who hanged himself through depression at 26
but this is life
bound in eternity to death in whatever form
what you have done defies belief
and words fail me