Several events have run into each other, vein-like, in the past handful of days. There is no way to sieve them into a comprehensible pattern.
1. My uncle was in a car accident last Tuesday night and his chest collapsed. He’d been bitten by a tiger-snake but was immune to the anti-venom (having been bitten so many times. He was one of those men who truly make sense in the Australian outback.) He died on Wednesday afternoon. I cannot yet understand such sudden absence. It’s like someone did the trick of whisking the tablecloth away but they took any sense of stability instead.
2. I found out I can fly. Or, rather, I found out I can fly down a single flight of stairs. On Friday night, in Kings Cross Hotel, my shoe got caught on a stair-lip. It serves me right as I had just been smiling at a highly inebriated man trying to walk past me up the staircase. Rather deftly, I managed to break my fall not with my hands or arms but with the right side of my face. My Dad, who used to be a doctor, has been making jokes about me not being a paraplegic right now (which worries me, as he is always serious about potential catastrophes, in a hyperbolic sort of way, which makes me think that I may well have come off much worse than I did). Luckily, X-rays show that my skull is intact. The skin covering it is just a bit purple/yellow right now.
3. A very dear friend from school came over on the weekend and we started brainstorming for a collaborative project. We’ve always wanted to work together and whilst throwing ideas around I felt like I was being swept up within the vortex of something that’s going to continue spinning for far longer than I can either anticipate or predict.
These three moments stand out to me like braille. I don’t know what they mean beside each other. I’m sure nothing. But I’m also sure that I’ll be unable, inevitably, to accept the rule of random events, of arbitrariness, and my mind will make these moments porous, will make their individual significance, or lack thereof, leak into each other.