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- Даниэл Киз
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So
here
I
am
,
sitting
off
by
myself
in
our
private
sec
tion
of
a
jet
on
the
way
to
Chicago
,
trying
to
get
used
to
thinking
aloud
,
and
to
the
sound
of
my
own
voice
.
I
sup
pose
the
typist
can
get
rid
of
all
the
uhm
’
s
,
er
’
s
and
ah
’
s
,
and
make
it
all
seem
natural
on
paper
(
I
can
’
t
help
the
paraly
sis
that
comes
over
me
when
I
think
hundreds
of
people
are
going
to
listen
to
the
words
I
’
m
saying
now
)
.
My
mind
is
a
blank
.
At
this
point
my
feelings
are
more
important
than
anything
else
.
The
idea
of
going
up
in
the
air
terrifies
me
.
As
far
as
I
can
tell
,
in
the
days
before
the
operation
,
I
never
really
understood
what
planes
were
.
I
never
con
nected
the
movies
and
TV
close
-
ups
of
planes
with
the
things
that
I
saw
zooming
overhead
.
Now
that
we
’
re
about
to
take
off
I
can
think
only
of
what
might
happen
if
we
crash
.
A
cold
feeling
,
and
the
thought
that
I
don
’
t
want
to
the
.
Brings
to
mind
those
discussions
about
God
.
I
’
ve
thought
about
death
often
in
recent
weeks
,
but
not
really
about
God
.
My
mother
took
me
to
church
occasion
ally
—
but
I
don
’
t
recall
ever
connecting
that
up
with
the
thought
of
God
.
She
mentioned
Him
quite
often
,
and
I
had
to
pray
to
Him
at
night
,
but
I
never
thought
much
about
it
.
I
remember
Him
as
a
distant
uncle
with
a
long
beard
on
a
throne
(
like
Santa
Claus
in
the
department
store
on
his
big
chair
,
who
picks
you
up
on
his
knee
and
asks
you
if
you
’
ve
been
good
,
and
what
would
you
like
him
to
give
you
?
)
.
She
was
afraid
of
Him
,
but
asked
favors
anyway
.
My
father
never
mentioned
Him
—
it
was
as
if
God
was
one
of
Rose
’
s
relatives
he
’
d
rather
not
get
involved
with
.
"
We
’
re
ready
to
take
off
,
sir
.
May
I
help
you
fasten
your
seat
belt
?
"
"
Do
I
have
to
?
I
don
’
t
like
to
be
strapped
down
.
"
"
Until
we
’
re
airborne
.
"
"
I
’
d
rather
not
,
unless
it
’
s
necessary
.
I
’
ve
got
this
fear
of
being
strapped
in
.
It
’
ll
probably
make
me
sick
.
"
