Victorian tear catchers. They’re usually used by a widowed bride. Upon the day of the funeral, the widow would collect her tears into this small vial, and all the tears she cried in the first year over the loss of her husband, she would capture in this vial she would wear upon her neck. And on the anniversary of his death, she pours the preserved tears atop his gravesite. It’s beautiful, tragic, and prolongs the suffering for ritualistic purposes. However, it’s quite poetic. If I were ever to lose someone close to me, I would do this.
(Source: theodditiesblog)
Sometimes Autumn is a tall man, ruddy-faced and bearded. His laughter is as quick as his wit. We drink dark beer while watching football and he explains things to me that I’ve never fully understood.
Usually Autumn is a slight, dark-eyed girl. She is pretty but plain and sad. We curl up together under a blanket on the couch and talk about life and how things end. Sometimes I can make her laugh and it makes me proud.
About me
my name is christopher. this is a place for me to compile things that interest or inspire me. it's mostly about putting things together before they fall apart. seeking joy.
finding inspiration.
keeping calm.
carrying on.
