Michelle Disler The Scene

The scene is something otherworldly and ordinary, and there are words for this kind of thing, no words for this kind of thing, a death so violent a body without words could speak for its self, prone and bloodied, lifeless, torn, violated, in ways a mind can only ever, never, comprehend as in homicide. This is death. This is the scene, the crime, what's criminal: a theatre so ghastly, a body so bloated and slashed, headless and stabbed, the imagination cannot summon the courage to approach the stage, except when required by awe. Watching the detective, in the mind's eye, perform death by examination, by collection of evidence, it itself otherworldly, hardly ordinary, a kind of thing for which there are no words.


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