many Sundays, a single rainbow thread
It has been 480 weeks since Ki's rebirth, nine years plus. It's Sunday morning at about ten in Olympia as I'm photographing and writing this entry.
All those Saturday-nights-into-Sunday mornings. New paths.
Ki is writing in her journal on 31st July 2007, from the room she is sharing over several nights and days with her boyfriend in Europe, talking about her life trajectories up to then:
"...I fell in love with my best friend. My male best friend. Yeah, despite being lesbian. I dunno. I'd known him for years, online, and I fell in love... I'm sitting on his bed right now... I'd like to end this on a happier note... Whee, Ki's all better, had a rough life but she's totally happy now and living it up and hasn't cut in years... and if a guy hits on her, she tells him to fuck off. But that's not how life is: things are never perfect. I have people I can trust... and for once they're not the only reason I'm living. I'm actually living for me. Because life's kind of fun, once you get used to it... I'm going to college in September, I'm going to be living on my own, and I know I can. I'm going to study to be a social worker.. {So} I did survive, and it was worth it. There is good in the world, and there is beauty in the world. So. Hang on. It IS worth it in the end."
Going to be living on my own, going to study and make photographs. Her writing lives today, originals somewhere in her profs' files at Evergreen, copies here; photos in her Deviant Art galleries. Including flower studies.
I photoed the flowers for this post this morning, in the home of some dear friends who have them.
The chorus on THIS Sunday morning is about rebirth and growth and not what was happening on THAT Sunday morning at twenty-six minutes past midnight. Not far from here, actually.
Flowers can become eternal in their unfolding, if you know where to look and how to open.
People can too.