It reminds me of when I was a child and I had a hankering for Asterix and Obelisk comics. The Gauls' biggest fear in those books was that the sky was going to fall on their heads, and even a magic potion made by their druid couldn't save them. This crack looks like that. Like the sky is going to fall on my head.
I lay in my bed and I contemplate this crack and what could potentially happen if the sky were to collapse above me. I imagine a bathtub or a couch, maybe a fridge just missing me and how I would spend the rest of my days appreciating life again. Maybe I would even give a few inspirational speeches to university students on how it feels to die. Almost.
I surmise that if the bathtub or assorted pieces of furniture were to fall on me it would probably make the local news, but nothing more because it's just me. One person. In the production of a fifteen minute newscast last week at J-school it became apparent just how jaded I was becoming. I barely even flinched at the fact that the death toll for the Indian earthquake had risen to 100 casualties or that 35 bodies had been dumped on a street in Mexico. All I thought was, that's it?
I still have roof over my head for now, but I've only just realized that the sky has already fallen. It's been falling for years. I just never took the time to notice.
