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Tuesday, February 27, 2007


Is it strange for me to be convinced that I was on the Titanic when she sank? I have stopped telling people that I know I was there because they do not believe me.

A long time before the Hollywood blockbusters, the books, I had an unquenchable fascination with the ship. I can't even remember when I first heard about her. To me it feels as though I have always known.

How we shuddered when we struck the iceberg. How the engines stopped.

How quiet the night was. Quiet and cold. How dark, how clear.

How blindingly white the iceberg.

Fearful faces. Tears, hands wrenched apart, reaching desperately.

The noise. The dead, even before we sank.

How we sank suddenly, as though the ocean was roping us in, impatient for us to join it, belong to it. How long we sank! Our impact, finally, on the gently sloping seabed. Things falling like hail around us, hitting us, kicking up dust, settling.




Written by I