Scene Title Cangiare
Synopsis Standing on a spire, Amato rethinks his motive power.
Date January 17, 2009

The Remnants of the Holy Rosary Church, Jersey City

Wise men have said that the difference between men and beasts is the capacity for belief and faith in something greater than themselves. It is a force that fuels some men for the entirety of their lives, be their goals for good, for evil, or for something in between.

A fog has settled on the city in the early morning hours, curling about the landscape like a blanket that keeps the slumbering metropolis beneath it warm even as the sun rises on the other side of a cloudy veil.

A figure stands on a broken spire, the cross that once pointed to the sky now askew, one arm broken as a result of the bomb. The wool coat that solidifies his form flaps about his legs in the slight wind, but the man himself is motionless. Lack of movement, however, is not necessarily a sign of idleness.

But when that belief is tested, there are only three possible outcomes. A person can be strengthened by the challenge and become even more faithful. One can lose the battle, fail the test, and turn to follow the path of one's previous adversary.

Not far from here is a warehouse housing a still sleeping dragon, whose fiery breath is sure to be much more devastating than any nuclear weapon could be. But the man atop the broken church does not look in that direction. His eyes, though focused, look somewhere beyond the broken physical world at his feet.

The final option is one of apathy – faced with opposition, one can throw off the human burden of belief and wander without such restraints, but this choice comes at a price.

Truth – what is right and what is wrong – can at times be as gray and incomprehensible as mist. Perhaps that is why mankind searches for it so earnestly. Perhaps it is another way in which we try to exert control over a chaotic world of unknowns.

Perhaps that is why we place limits – in an effort to section off and classify objects, places, people, and experiences. Control is the opposite of chaos, and smaller things are much easier to control.

The man closes his eyes tightly, as if in passionate prayer, but no sound escapes his sealed lips. He swallows, wrestling thoughts and feelings he had at one point in his life pinned to the proverbial floor and lorded over. But now…

Everything is changing, concealed for the moment by the fog that blankets us all.

January 16th: Give Me Liberty, And Give Them Death!
January 17th: Turning Inward
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License