more and more
It’s enough to drive one mad.
I have such a desire
to do everything,
my head is bursting with it.”
― Claude Monet
Dr. Krantz and Clyde mounted at the Smithsonian. Still my favourite thing ever.
Before Krantz died, he said to Smithsonian anthropologist David Hunt, “I’ve been a teacher all my life and I think I might as well be a teacher after I’m dead, so why don’t I just give you my body.” When Hunt agreed, Krantz added, “But there’s one catch: You have to keep my dogs with me.”
This is the happiest skeleton I’ve ever seen
And here’s the “before” to the Smithsonian’s “after”…
This will never cease to warm my heart.
This is perfect.
To the man who brings his sick eight-year-old son in a stroller to every charitable institution he could think of,
I salute you.
For enduring the life of a desperate father and husband, when both your wife and child are ailing,
for taking to the streets at night in your pedicab in order to sustain them,
I salute you.
To the lady in the neat uniform,
I wish you the best of luck.
May you find what you’re looking for.
If it should come to you within the white walls of the
giant supermall you assist customers in,
may it bring you peace and joy.
To the well-dressed little boy,
when you’re all grown up, you won’t remember how you
wailed and flailed in your tired grandmother’s arms,
drawing stares from everyone in the train car,
making some smile, making others shake their heads slowly, almost imperceptibly,
but your grandmother will.
Believe me, she will.
To the girl around my age,
I understand you are exhausted from a day in the university we both go to (it says so on your shirt),
but sitting on the train car’s floor,
playing games on your phone,
while everyone else stands uncomfortably around the space you’re consuming?
That’s too much. Seriously, get up.
To the man in a cap who gave up his seat for me,
To the old woman I didn’t give up my seat for,
that one time when I was so sleepy,
To the good-looking boy facing the doors,
I’d say you looked like a heartbreaker,
but who am I to judge?
I may have fallen in love with your face,
which I’ve already forgotten,
and I may have fallen in love with the way
you stood watching the city go by in that
time between light and darkness,
which I haven’t.
To everyone I’ve seen on the train,
know that I’m glad to have seen you—
even if you accidentally hit me with
your elbow on the way out.
I wish I knew even a day’s worth of your stories.
There’s a limit to the number of faces
my brain could remember,
and I won’t see you again, anyway.
Is that sad?
That’s just the beauty of it.
Claude Monet’s home and garden
photos by Ariane Cauderlier