Crackling sounds from the 1940 radio, a drama playing live on air, a plot with no escape, nowhere to go, at times like Pearl Harbour it does seem so unfair, Like a ship in harbour, a fish in a bottle, like a dancer or a pin-up, like cattle, a drama live on air, a picture-book of history. Views from the horizon, dreams in folded space, so much room without any place. From the distance, no connection, a missing link, no more worry, searching for conception, lost in a Pandora's box, telling fear from glory on a photograph, telling by the looks, every face with a written epitaph, faces and no names , lost in the wars, the mightys' games. A reflection on Pearl Harbour. 27.9.1997 Alexander StinglBirth sign: Not entered
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