This was another set of pictures that begged to have their story told. So, I decided to take one and try to write that story. There are several there, I’d love to see what stories you can tell for these pictures!
This is a place where being the same is important. The art of blending into the crowd is more valued then any other art. There are no fashion designers and there are no hair stylists trying to start a revolution. No, they are mastering the art of making each body shape look the same.
If there is nothing visually different, then one must pay attention to the mind. But that is never achieved. People spend their time instead looking for the subtle and fine details that make the other different then themselves.
We have forgotten how to sing.
But Jacob (all the boys are named Jacob) could not keep his eyes to the ground. He needed to see the sky and the trees. He watched the fluffy clouds drifting by and new that their beauty was in the way that their shapes shifted and changed. Wishing he was a cloud, he let the hat slide from his head. It hung on his shoulders, completely out of place.
The rest of the Jacobs stopped in their daily migration to work. They stared. One even kindly attempted to put the hat back in its proper place. But Jacob shrugged him off. He slipped the string up over his head and let the hat drop to the ground. In unison, the other Jacobs gasped.
Jacob walked away from the group and continued to watch the sky. Longing surged up and he raised his hands to the sky. He did not see the enforcers when they came behind him. He did not feel the pain of the rifles as they shot him down. He was too enraptured with the freedom of the clouds.
For a moment, before he had died, he too had known what it was to be a cloud.