Fourteen days later dually image
[a nod to handstand technique]
I am heading backwards in to the south again, for the second time in a week. Soon I will hit England with the North Sea on my right hand side and the track towards Cumbria on my left. As the breadth of the country matures pasts its bottleneck the coast will slowly disappear as the train heads inland. The clouds, according to the weather report, will close in on the train to the eventual point in time where relativity excludes itself from our spearheaded location. If the earth stopped moving the atmosphere would maintain its viscosity across the surface of land and sea: high winds would rip us from the earth at speeds beyond macro-recognition and the skies would blur between you and the next solid object. Instant death would hit you in a matter of milliseconds.
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In editing these two trains of thought I would have to extract one from the other and place them side-by-side. This editing would efface any tautological misreading allowing the reader to cross-reference one narrative with the other. But on a whole one stream of access to the idea is relative to the other.
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If I had your speed and you borrowed mine for a second or two we could work out what displacement lay between us: as your window seat catches up with mine we get to enjoy an expanded lapse in time where visual contact is exposed and slowed. Your face flickers gently with recognition. Mine probably makes the same involuntary contortion as always, and for a brief calculation we stare in to one another’s eyes with exacting measure.
