Yr Friend Camille

@yrouttasight.bsky.social

Art, music, film, 🌸💀🌸. A big orange cat named Bruce. Sociology grad student, Death Studies research. New Englander. Darkness hippie. She/her.

Years ago a friend and I went to New Orleans in June and of course it was miserably hot outside. Strolling through the French Quarter, a pack of college dudes passed us. One of them called out to another “yeah I gotta swamp tour…in my PANTS.” So now we call hot humid days “a swamp tour”

When rain approaches, these mushrooms pop up from the remnants of an old stump at the edge of the yard, where a large tree was cut down long before I moved here. You wouldn’t otherwise remember the tree was ever there. What I’m trying to say is maybe everything that dies someday comes back

A patch of mushrooms growing on old tree roots poking out of the grass

You will die. You will not live forever. Nor will any man nor any thing. Nothing is immortal. But only to us is it given to know that we must die. And that is a great gift: the gift of selfhood. For we have only what we know we must lose, what we are willing to lose.