07 Mar 2012
Tomorrow my left arm won’t go above the shoulder and I’ll have to turn my whole body to look left or right, but on the ride back to town I’m actually annoyed that the only visible signs of crash are medium scratches on my left arm and shin.
Our scars are our stories worth telling.
It turns out that a person can barrel-roll fast enough to not actually feel like they’re rolling at all. It’s disorienting, like your body is whirling around a stationary mind. Plus, in retrospect, I’ve discovered a blank space in my memory between hurtling forward with a starboard list and tumbling in this strange disembodied way after crunching my face, neck, and shoulder into gravely softness. The impact is like a memory unattached to any actual sense experience.