One-Fingered Man Fails in Everest Bid (from an RSS feed) Who wakes up knowing what news they’ll become by afternoon? Some, I’m sure, strive for the odd combination to capture the world’s fascination if only for the time to click to link and blink a moment in wonder. But imagine the plain, turning days rolling this man forward without knowledge of the music drafted in his tracks. One day buying airfare on a touchscreen. Another folding clothes. Then one afternoon he’s approaching the stratosphere, feeling drunk and alone, remembering clearly each finger’s small but tremendous death as if they happened in someone else’s hands but had been transposed to his by the same cruel magic that led him to love this mountain, to come apart in its cold mouth. This love ascends his bid to its surreal crescendo, raising his one digit again and again. Always there on the mountain, yet, in light ...
Like the title says.