A man high in the air while a plane disappears, it seems, into the edge of the building. One small scrap of history meeting a larger one. As if the walking man were somehow anticipating what would come later. The intrusion of time and history. The collision point of stories. We wait for the explosion but it never occurs. The plane passes, the tightrope walker gets to the end of the wire. Things don't fall apart. It strikes her as an enduring moment, the man alone against scale, still capable of myth in the face of all other evidence.
( Colum McCann )
[ Let the Great World Spin ]
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