River is a deep child indeed...Her writing most always pulls at my heart strings, this one was especially touching. I was born with pyromaniac in my veins. In the height of their madness, my parents were tried and true Western adrenaline junkies. They spent their summers stretched out under the unfiltered galaxy, awaiting the smoke signal of their crazed lifestyle. While seemingly-sane civilians scampered away from the inferno, my parents traveled in the opposite direction, anticipatory smiles masking the inevitable worry. Their souls were moths; the light of a fire made a decision not even fear could override. My mother trudged in on foot. She always preferred to be on the ground; the earth had been her silent and omnipresent savior since childhood. My father, however, was never a fan of being tethered to anything- a home, the ground, his livelihood. In act circuses could only hope to recreate, he dove from sky to fire, landing on the periphery of death. This cycle of madness stopped early in my childhood. There are a limited number of chances in that business, and its impossible to raise a child when youre always wondering if youve tried your luck one too many times. So I suppose it was inevitable that I would manifest their flame. I took their wild nature, and diluted it with society. My fathers unprotected free fall was sealed into an aluminum capsule, and their freedom took the physical form of a navy-blue booklet. I turned their scars into ink stamps, their skin into paper. And Ive kept their need to be free.
Posted on: Mon, 13 Oct 2014 00:43:00 +0000
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