Re-reading the previous entry, what happend then seems almost trivial now.
Some background about "23:20" - It was something that really did happen the family quarrel on the street. I felt quite disturbed during the time, being the "I" in the poem, sort of trapped in that particular situation on the confined space of the family car. Part of me wanted so much to open the door and bolt - leaving everyone else behind and just hop into a cab - I actually went over the action, frame by frame, in my brain. In the end I didn't, and stayed where I was. And then the news about aftermath of the horrific traffic accident came on the radio. There was something theatrical to me that very moment. It was as if one of Life's many adsurdities had been illuminated, and I was the one trapped in that particular space and particular time to witness it. And that I should write it down.
All my life I feel I have been blessed with the family I was born and grew up in. There have certainly been disputes, but they are rare. The extended family may be a bit more complicated, but I seldom have the chance to experience it firsthand. Most of the stories are from hearsay - anecdotes my parents would occasionally let out given the right moment. And I have always been my peace-loving self, almost never bringing up a quarrel. Read: Almost never. Quarrels - just hearing them, not having to be a part of it - actually give me an adrenaline rush, making me a slight dizziness and a state of mind I don't usually carry with me. It was at such a stage that I saw that strangely highlighted moment at 23:20.
I reckon I don't handle quarrels well when they do happen. There are always something irrational about them, and what I should have done only appears in afterthoughts.
