Souls were rising, from the earth, far below. Souls of the dead of people who'd perished from famine, from war, from the plague, and they floated up… Like skydivers in reverse, limbs all akimbo, wheeling and spinning. And the souls of these departed joined hands, clasped ankles and formed a web, a great net of souls. And the souls were three-atom oxygen molecules of the stuff of ozone, and the outer rim absorbed them and was repaired. Nothing's lost forever. In this world there is a kind of painful progress, longing for what we left behind and dreaming ahead. At least I think that's so. ——From Angels
in America over the United States. God, I haven't been on a plane in years. When we get to 35,000 feet in the air, we'll be in the stratosphere, in the perfect windless zone, and even in the ozone layer. I dreamed we were going there. Flying up the stratosphere, to the safe air, on the edge of the outer ozone layer, those scattered and tattered pieces, worn like old cloth, are frightening. But I see things that only I can see because I have an amazing ability to see them.
The soul is ascending, from far below on the earth. Souls dead from famine, war, and plague float up... like reverse skydivers, hands on hips, spinning up. These souls are holding hands and feet by feet, forming a web, a web of great souls. The soul is the ozone layer's trioxide atoms, which are absorbed and repaired by the ozone layer. Nothing goes away forever. There is a painful progress in the world, longing for what we leave behind, and still dreaming of moving forward. At least I think so.
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