Post Apocalyptica

The sky's on fire. I'm sitting in my room, looking out across a flaming horizon. Clouds are pulsating with a fierce redness, reflecting the burning beneath it. It's a dark wednesday morning in november. My name is Fredrik, and I'm watching an entire heaven burn. And I find it... beautiful. Like God has a faulty lightbulb. As if... there's definite proof nothing is perfect. As if the universe can't decide on night and day right now, please hold. Everything will return to normal in a short while. In the meantime, here's Gram Rabbit with Devil's Playground. Enjoy. Sandwiches will be served on the lido deck. Ignore the flickering light, maintenance is on it's way. I'm certain this is what it would've looked like in the aftermath of an atomic bomb. Massive fires below me, lighting up the skies. The trees in the foreground seem like they're out of focus somehow, rising and shrinking, rising and shrinking. Shadows stretch towards my window as if to let me know they know where I am, and I'm next. Just I wait. It's a fascinating vista. Watching the world burn. Intellectually, I know it's an illusion brought on by fog, low clouds and the torches they burn at a few local factories in the morning hours. But, childlike, I view it with a sense of awe, and of magic, and of storyteller joy. My imagination takes me places I would never want to go, but still want to see for myself. I find myself enjoying it immensely.

Some times I just wish you could be here. And see the things I see.

I also wish I had a camera. A picture says more than a thousand words, they say. Would've saved me a lot of writing. But I wanted to share my experience. Not just share the experience. There's a difference.

-Fred

PS: Also, I need sleep. Like, badly. Work in three hours. Meh.