"The implosion is the opposite of the explosion. It occurs when the external pressure to an object is greater than that inside and this difference is large enough to break the strength of the latter. It suddenly occurs at the fracture resistance and throws debris into the interior of the object. "
I no longer listening.
He continues to speak but his voice is muffled, as if through a tunnel.
He talks and I think of feathers.
Or rather, to snow. A thick carpet of snow that puts the world on mute and on which I am crushed gently to the first of his words.
So this is an implosion into space?
Hardly a sound, a hissing sound at impact, a whisper at idle. As a crash that would last for hours. Around me, everything revolves with exaggerated slowness. I do not recognize anything. I set my feet to control the staggers and focus on snow, the silence that came over me, heavier than lead, which seeps into my stomach, my chest and into my mouth. I sink slowly into the soft ice.
So that's ... implosion in a vacuum. Where nothing is spreading, or swallow anything and everything that disappear over time with a hiss. Where the breath sucked inward as away everything in its path, words, gestures, reasons, and takes all enclosed in a space rotten there, somewhere between my sternum and my diaphragm. I swallow this story and its meaning smithereens biting my building.
I would leave it, I want the noise around me, cries, tears, broken glass to lacerate my disgust for the lead in my throat flew to smash him. I want the sound and grand gestures, I want mouths wide open.
But I'm sinking more and sit on the steps slippery. I can not speak, I can not move. Ice imprisons me and I hold my breath for it never frees me.
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