A pictorial representation of my weekend: sea, castle, mountains, trees, sky, river, (host) family, friends and spontaneous fun
• Call me a fetishist if you want to, but I love bruises, cuts, scrapes, callouses, scars, whether my own or others’. They are evidence of a life lived. They are a story told on a human body. They are the hint of a limit tested and some proof of our body’s true strength. They are the artwork that our environment paints on us.
In the past month, sharp rocks have dotted my palms and fingers with a constellation of tiny punctures. Pine trees slashed glowing red thread-like vines on my hands and wrists. A gravelly road grafted half-formed scabs on my left hip and elbow. Underwater rock formations sketched a shiny scar on my right knee. Milky white coastal rocks powered my legs with the purple blush of new bruises. Thorns, shrubs, and thistles stitched on my calves a crisscross pattern of pinkish stripes and rashes.
So what is the best injury you have received lately?
• The unbelievably, breathtakingly, holy-shit-what-the-fucking-ly cold mountain river I swam in with friends yesterday left me with an enduring chill in my bones and a warmth in my heart. Some days are composed of moments like these which string together like a beaded necklace. As time passes these moments become a rosary that I rub between my fingers for joy and comfort and faith.
• “If I am beautiful, it’s because I have beautiful friends.”–M.R.