I can clearly remember the moment right before the bombs fell.

It was one of those brief moments of pure silence. It’s rare these days, especially in the cities. As quickly as I was pondering the silence, some distant noise threatened to break it completely. Strange as it sounds, the noise itself seemed to be born of the silence, making it difficult to distinguish the two at first. Tired as I was, I slowly recognized the sound…a distant engine in the sky. As the sound grew nearer, I noticed a similar rumble following close behind the first. The crescendo of engines grew louder. I stood up to look out my window. I half expected to see peaceful flashing lights high above. A lowly, blue-collar passenger jet, working the graveyard shift.

From that moment on, time and space took a form I had never experienced before.

Watching those dark war planes looming in the air, my perception split in half. I could simultaneously see the bombs gently falling, and the landscape and architecture around me in flames. Everything washed in a thin orange haze. Not only was my perception split, I was at the same time overrun with feelings of both sheer horror and overwhelming awe and anticipation. So it goes.

I always wondered what this moment would be like. That moment where you would say to yourself, “This is it. It’s out of my hands”. Would the thrill of what’s to come be greater than the fear and sadness of losing all that’s come before?

Maybe this is what infinity feels like. A space where, no longer held down by your earthly form, your essence is pulled in every direction. I always wondered how you would even notice it, seeing as you wouldn’t have any point of reference to compare it…

…it was one of those brief moments of pure silence.