So curious..

What does all this mean to you?

What are you doing here?

There’s a ghostly fog above me punctured by the extended arms of man, shooting upward from the sea, lifting cable and asphalt, towering above the greatest of our efforts, above our births and deaths. I saw a plaque for those who lost everything to become mortar for this monument. Does it reassure me to know that a piece of me, or of my identity (supposed), too resides in this complex of steel and concrete, too is promised eternal life, too is promised conquest?

From the gate, to the South I could see the downtown towers, bleak obilisques of fortune, ascend like temple pillars of old. Are they bridging the gap between heaven and earth? Do they support the sky? Or tether it? Is their end an illusion? Maybe they reach the stars.

I wonder what the children will say, when time has rubbed out the memory of us and our fathers, our time and our legacy like smudged pencil lines on scraps of paper. Will they ask their grandparents where we were going so fast or will they giggle at our arrogance?

Me? Oh, nothing. I’m not here. I just arrived from nowhere.