I read this, in this fantastically depressing book, that when you jump from a building, it’s rarely the impact that actually kills you. There’s a photograph in the book, called The Leaper. It’s old, but it’s beautiful. From above the corpse of a woman who had just leapt to her death. There’s blood around her head, like a halo. And her leg is buckled underneath her. And her arm has snapped like a twig. But, her face, is so serene. So at peace. And I think it’s because when she died, she could feel the wind against her face..... |
|
|