A ride through Chernobyl.

On first look, I had wanted to call it the splendid decrepitude of post-industrial decay; on second thought there is really nothing splendid about Chernobyl at all. The difference is that between the decay of old age and the post-mortem effects of sudden death. Finding the bleached skeleton of a snake in the grass may be an occasion for detached contemplation, finding a dead snake crushed on the shoulder of the road is not.

A comment: The second paragraph here is an addition, made on 5 April, to the original brief post. This is antithetical, perhaps, to the spirit of these things which is to be disarmed and spontaneous. It certainly gives the false appearance of thoughts sprung complete & well formed at the first instant, which they never were. But innate to the medium of writing is the possibility of revision, and all writers, even the most un-self-conscious, are tempted to revise and re-revise. In electronica, where revision is particularly easy and rapid, the temptation is particularly great; the downside is it may be done without leaving evidence. I am not known for being spontaneous and disarmed, and I am self-conscious about what I write. This means everything I write here, with or without revisions, is intentional and measured as to effect and meaning. If it offers any reassurance, I do refrain from revisions that alter my original meaning & tone, and from revising from too late a date. Let this be a disclaimer.