Some people are without boundaries.
I’ve finally started going through my deceased uncles book collection. Although he did not live during my lifetime, his death was such a tragic and traumatic one, that his name, his story and even his former material possessions haunt my family to this day. They find it hard to talk about, even 35+ years later. As a child, I took an interest in his things. He was an artist, an avid reader, a history/military buff- all things I, myself, enjoy. I adopted most of his remaining personal possessions but many of them have sat untouched for decades. So to return to my start, I’ve recently felt the need to start reading his books. I brought one to work to read during my lunch break today. I was reading/eating in a small semi-private break room and only for a moment, I put the book down to get up and grab a napkin. My coworker proceeds to walk-in and just take my book from where I placed it down (amongst my personal belongings). I realized and this wave of paralysis washed over me. She started flipping through the pages and skimming here and there. She never asked permission, not once even speaking a word at all. In that moment I felt like screaming and crying and snatching the book away. I wanted her to know this was no ordinary book! It represented everything gone wrong with my family. It was a symbol of my uncles suicide, it’s long-term effect on my family, our collective history of mental illnesses, and all the things we do not speak of. It’s not just a book. It was his book. It’s now our book. It’s amazing how some objects take on a life of their own.
Nini Theilade in A Midsummer Night’s Dream (1935)
And the weekend begins…
Now that’s a bikini
Isn’t that Nova!