an observation with a drum beat soundtrack

The booming command is to make a one-person human bridge. She lies on her back, places her feet and hands shoulder width apart and presses the ground. Her back arches in compression, stomach muscles stretch in tension. Her hair, black hair, falls to the hard wood floor. The boss orders to hold the position until he says otherwise. Snorts, moans and shivers spread through the group but silence shrouds her. Her thoughts are of something distant- not selfish, sexual or of anyone in the room. Somehow, the electric impulses carried by nerves do not affect. Blood, skin and bone become electric insulators. Maybe it is just her brain that insulates the nervous system electrons. As thoughts float away like clouds, the sound of collapsing bridges all around goes unnoticed. There are no defects in any single truss in her body bridge- a bridge not meant to be crossed.

Um.... dois... tres....

We all fall down...

Um... dois... tres...

The bridges rebuild....