(on a postcard)
Hi Michael,Really great. It's the first bit that I've seen so far of this project. When I was twelve, I hung out with my pimply-faced friend William. We were the nerds who made a comic book called "The Track Terrorists." After school, we'd climb up and over gates to walk along the L.I.R.R. and Conrail lines, talking about Black Sabbath and science fiction. One afternoon, following the rails, we found a junk heap behind an old handball wall. It was piled with industrial glass, clunky office computers, and whatever urban dreck. In minutes, glass shattering everywhere, we became human trash compactors. One of us, I'm not sure who now, screamed out a name of someone hated and then threw whatever was in hand to the ground. At that point, we'd shout out a name of an enemy, of a thing, of an idea we hated, and then broke something, smashing whatever we'd been thinking about that person or thing. Paradoxically, by nightfall we'd become some kind of enlightened savages.
This is beautiful, John. It's a great short story, at least. But better than that, a great human moment too.
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