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The Breeze of Panic

The Breeze of Panic is a spoken word styled monologue of an event that took place while walking through the streets of New York City.

Woman/Man: Sometimes I slow myself down and see things in slow motion.  When I do that, when I look at all the faces I know inside my mind, I realize how beautiful everyone is…it’s magical.

There’s beauty in illness.  There’s beauty in rage.  There’s beauty in death.

A man died in front of me today while walking along Broadway.  I just came out of Strand, made a left, walked down Broadway and there this man in his fifties, early sixties…was frozen stiff face down on the sidewalk.  His right hand was clenched tight and he looked as dead as dead can be when it happens.

People gathered around with concerned looks on their faces.  Someone dialed for an ambulance but I knew, I knew this stranger was gone.

Sure, I prayed.  I prayed for him to come back, for him to not feel pain but it didn’t seem like it would help him…he was dead.

You feel it in the air, the breeze of panic, when it washes itself across your face, when there’s nothing you can do to save someone you don’t know.

I slowed down today.  Death made me slow down.

Sometimes I slow myself down and see things in slow motion.  When I do that, when I look at all the faces I know inside my mind, I realize how beautiful everyone is…it’s magical.

Joseph Arnone

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