The fellowship of
the mystery that hath been hid. From
a bridge in Kabul, addiction is spectator sport. “Some look with
judgment, some with pity” on men in the riverbed below. The mystery
is a net that catches. The mystery is the link between history and a
syringe, between needle and the rush of floating above a bridge,
passenger on Google earth. A cyber wind transmits its mystery, but
the word of the day is “redemption.” There are no discounts, only
discounting. Do not hold your nose against the soul. Do not wonder
what it means in context, for there is none that forgives. The
addicts “attract more attention than any other kind of suffering.”
A young man snaps photo of an elderly addict, asleep on the ground.
One wonders what he'll do with it. The photo is abstract, cradled
only by his phone. Can the phone forgive the boy, or the dying man?
Is the mystery found in their fellowship, or in ours,
readers of the New York Times,
December 20, 2014?
--22
December 2014
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