Here in Chukotka, I have so many unanswerable questions each day. Stories–sometimes disguised as wreckage, litter, or a closed door–play hard to get.
How many questions from this one extraordinary scene? A torn up fuselage perched beside the road, its story lost to local memory. Maybe the ravens know what happened here. Maybe they can hold the past between their wings and keep it from being torn away by the wind.
Can I, someone who comes to the edge of the world looking for answers, live with the questions?
And thank you all for your messages–they are good companions!
Photo by Eric Guth.