You could just as well say it all happened yesterday, you could, and I wouldn’t be wrong. Such matters show that time isn’t what we think it is. That’s what I say anyway. I wondered aloud to the man beside me how easy it would be for the flames to pass through the carriages, if a fire broke out and nobody acted in time. It was strange because I wondered this aloud to the man beside me with whom I had only exchanged the most cursory of greetings when we'd boarded. I wondered this, full of wonder, but it was obvious that we were not on the same page. He merely glanced over to the cafe and then emitted from his shut mouth a sound that could only be an acknowledgement that he’d heard me, and not much else. He went back to reading his newspaper. Maybe the newspaper got me thinking such thoughts in the first place, I mean I recall reading an article once, before I finally stopped reading the papers altogether, before any of this happened. It happened in Cairo I think, a few years ago, or it could just as well have been last week. Yes, it was Cairo. The morning train to Luxor. A fire broke out, it might have started in the cafe, or maybe a gas cylinder burst. The flames quickly spread. Witnesses said that the bars on the window prevented more people from escaping. A lot of them died anyway, those who did get out, as you would, jumping from a speeding train. I wasn’t a witness of course, I was more than that, I was right there, in the bloody filling of the chaos sandwich, destined for a stomach already way past full. I’m a survivor. I was. I am. Time starts to play tricks on you. In your mind’s eye you can see the newspaper photo at the scene of the devastation. Remnants of bodies burnt beyond recognition. You can’t help but look and wonder: Is that a skull charred to the bone? But as to what exactly happened to you yourself, you remain unsure. Though certainly I remember the sound, the sound that seemed to signal the tearing open of the sky. I almost expected horns to follow. Then a black faced man, one of his shoulders the width of my two, carried me out like a doll into the cool spring air, despite my telling him that I could walk, despite my telling him that I was fine, put me down, there’s barely a scratch on me, go, go help someone who needs it.
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