Ligature.
I met you at the crossroads. We tied a string and agreed — no matter where the path takes us, this string will always bind us together.
Now I am left with a handful of broken twine.
Once upon a time, an old man made a promise. No one knew the old man. He lived alone in a house on the hill. Sometimes they would see his creations. Some jerkily, some smooth and serenely, but all gliding down the hill to find their place among the town. They all seemingly disappeared as the man looked on lovingly at his creations.
Saddened, the man would return to his work. Many years passed like this. Children became teenagers, who became adults, who had children of their own. All the while, the man made his little machines.
One day, an ambulance made a visit to the old man on the hill. On a stretcher, they carried him out. He died. Alone, in his home. In time, they demolished the man’s overgrown home on the hill.
More time passed. One calm day, a young man came across an interesting figure as he was cleaning out his mother’s attic.
“Mom, this is so weird, what is it?!” the young man held up a janky, wooden, mannequin-esque figure. It was outfitted with what looked like a sail, as a form of locomotion.
The mom looked for a moment, seemingly lost in her memory.
“… Do you remember that man on the hill? … The one who died when you were young? It’s funny, now that you mention it — that figure is how I met your father. I was playing with it, and your father tripped over it the first time I met him. I laughed and laughed… He was so upset! But that is how we ended up having our first conversation. I used to love that toy growing up as a little girl, I never got to thank that old man…”
As the story goes, everyone in the town had somehow had their lives touched by the man’s creations. He lived and died and had no idea. One life, touching many, but never in turn being touched. A small tragedy, and in exchange… many beautiful stories.
I want to reformat my whole website. I will work on it in the coming months.
I hope that you have been well in my absence.
Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy the photos I share below.
Stay warm.
DC
P.S. In life, you can only lose what you once gained. And in losing it, you also gain perspective. Sometimes it’s hard, really fucking hard, to keep going. But you should. For every version of yourself that you will become. There is always another side. At least that is what I tell myself. So push yourself and mute the voices, and get away from all the eyes. Find yourself and save yourself, because if you don’t — no one else will. Never give up. Keep your head up, behind every storm is a sunny sky that you have not seen yet. And if you’re lucky, one day all of those things you hope for won’t be real only behind closed eyes. Much love to you, and peace upon your soul.
