Watching the branches shift in the breeze. Long grasses are blown back by the steady thrum of helicopter blades. A twist in the air. Jets scream. There is a moment of slow movement before all is consumed by the blinding vision of the fire that rips through the trunks. Details are eviscerated in the shockwave and the image becomes a distorted bed of chaos. The quickness of the consumption does not dissipate but lingers, leeched onto every surface as the interior of the inferno swells into a tornado. The sky darkens against the flash and burn. The air wavers, made malleable and unreliable by the heat, shifting the tides of light across the plain. And trapped inside this maze of chemical fire, human experience is folded and torn between the unbreachable walls of war.
Paddy Dobson
28th August 2020