And he jumps from the bungee-cord off the bridge! Oh my god, what a sight!
“It’s totally fake, you know. It’s all CGI. There’s no way he actually jumped.” Maggie pulls my shirt to get my attention as she chews her cold pizza slice. The television is on it highest volume, which is about as loud as a normal person talking. CRTs are so out of style.
Maggie lounges on our couch, while I lean on the side smoking a Cheyenne; I love the taste of grape in a puff.
“What do you think, Ashe?” Maggie tugs on my shirt again. My roommate is a little on the ditsy side, but she’s good people.
He’s made it down! Wait…And he’s back in the air. Oh my God! He’s doing somersault’s! Is this guy great, or what?
Some guy’s on a bridge somewhere jumping off of it for the joy and exhilaration for us viewers. The sweet movement of air against his face and the adrenaline rush of the drop, the fall of a lifetime. The angles just twist and turn with every movement, his perspective, their perspective—back and forth.
I look down at her, consider the question as I blow out the misty grape goodness of my Cheyenne. I watch the way the smoke swirls, and I blow a little into the smoke, to watch it swirl. Glorious. I take another drag. I watch the first puff dissipate slowly.
“What do you think air tastes like when you fall?”©