I'm house sitting just a few blocks from George Floyd Square--a mile closer than I live.
I've been photographing stuffed animals at the memorial, and the things around them.
Like, this letter to GF from strangers:
“...with tears flowing down my face. I never got a chance to meet you. Now I never will get that chance. …
You didn’t deserve to be stepped on, like you weren’t a person.
…Seeing your life being snuffed out will forever haunt me.”
(I don’t know if the little stuffy ^ came with the note–I think not. )
The orange skirt on the traffic cone is so brave:
Talking to RudyinParis about whether we can call ourselves "traumatized", we who are relatively more socially safe and cushioned.
I say yes.
Trauma is from the Greek word that means wound: "trauma" (it's the same).
I feel like we SHOULD feel traumatized (wounded) by witnessing what happened to George Floyd.
"Secondary trauma" is the term for what the letter-writers (above) describe:
"I can't breathe when I think about how that must have felt."
But pleasegod, may we not stay stuck in our wounds.
May we have the strength and courage (and luck) to be able to create through it all, to ...
Decorate the traffic cone.
Write the letter.
Bring our selves, share our toys, and remember.
"FRee"
"Black Lives Matter"
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