“For he and I have in common the belief that just as spirit flowers out of matter, the figurative should blossom out of the real” Robert Pogue Harrison (Gardens: An Essay on the Human Condition)
Our family history is passed down as legends and storytelling, how accurately portrayed you can never be sure but the characters always hauntingly familiar to ourselves. You realise at any point that there is one member, maybe more from the branches of your tree for whom you never knew, but feel a great affinity to. You may have loved the same, lost the same and sought after the same, some generations apart. The stories scatter through the wind like paper fish, swimming in our veins, eventually to dissolve but always existing as part of us.
We are all followed by ghosts, some our ancestors, some our own manifestations from more recent experiences. Do we lay the ghosts or do we find solace in their familiarity?
“And then they learned that dominant obsessions can prevail against death and they were happy again with the certainty that they would go on loving each other in their shape as apparitions long after other species of future animals would steal from the insects the paradise of misery that the insects were finally stealing from man”.
-Gabriel García Márquez