Lifting the Spire into place
Holy shit! So many emotions as I watched.
First, I was glad I’d gone to the bathroom before I started otherwise I’d of peed in my pants. All words fail. Amazing! Yep! Nope. Too pale. Fantastic? Yeah…maybe. Nah, too dramatic. It’s got a beauty to it that one or two words, no matter how grand, cannot fill the space that this leaves in its wake. The slowness, the faint sound of the motor’s whirr, feed into the grandeur.
For whom the bell tolls…it tolls for thee.
It picks up speed; the motor slightly louder.
Then at one point I notice the cars on the Westside Highway. Shortly after I start to weep. The men below, where it started, are no longer anything more then yellow specks that, if you didn’t know their significance, you’d dismiss as merely bits of “what’s down below”.
As they set it in place my mind, acting as director, asks, “How should this end?” Going back to my younger mind I shout, “A shot from the side. Have the camera swoop in on it. Yeah! Wow! Yeah, that’s the way to end it.” But then it stops, after the few men, so far above the City, settle it into place. Lovely. And far below I see the waters of the Memorial twinkling in the light.
Cut to black.