You are eight years old and today is the first day of fishing season. Your father has finally taken you out with him and even bought you your own pole. Though you’re too young to understand adulthood, you can tell that this is how you become the person you hope to be. Your chest swells and your hands shake as your father helps you thread the rod. He guides your arms as you draw back. “Not bad!” he exclaims as you cast for the first time.
Bleary-eyed you try to make sense of why two Greek boy scouts are standing with Cindy McCain, the beer heiress and widow of failed bomber pilot/
You leave to drink, but you cannot drink water. Water nourishes and you have forfeited any right to nourishment, spiritual or otherwise. It’s
The hotel has sandwiches, roast beef, good enough. You grab one, removing any and all vegetables before taking a bite.
The three of you sit on a leather sofa in the lobby debating whether or not you really want to try to get an interview with Eli Lake, an egg-shaped
You wonder how the actual journalists can bear to do this. They file stories. They moderate panels. Their publications are sponsors. Don’t they understand their complicity in normalizing this charade? Are they, like you, under the spell of the free sandwiches and toothbrushes? Are they simply drunk on the sweet nectar of access?
Your breaking point is a panel on the importance of letting women and minorities also murder people. Your extremities numb as a
Darkness and light dance. They consume each other. The light does not fade, it flows into the river of your childhood and becomes the darkness once again. You forget the calm of the air, the sound of the river, your father’s hands holding yours. It is all darkness now.
The darkness you have found here is not the depravity of cackling villains you imagined. These are not beings who are strange to you. You know them. You have always known them. The darkness permeates everything. This is not a fleeting moment in human history, this is the
The firmament between this world and an older, darker world has cracked. What floods in isn’t cruelty or callousness: It is
———Opinionated is a rotating column by Halifax writers featured regularly in The Coast. The views published are those of the author.