Coleture Concept

The next time you see or hear from me I will, most definitely, be a changed man. 

Before I go I’ll answer a question that people keep asking about my ring.  My ring is the skull of a chameleon.

The chameleon can see everything that happens around it.  Constantly aware of its environ, the small reptile changes color depending on the situation it enters.  Its very special form of adaptation is one I try to mimic, every time I enter a space I try to become aware of what I step into and change my color accordingly.  The way I move, feel, argue, and all the discourse of my life, changes in order to succeed within that space.  This adaptation to environmental and social pressure will allow me to succeed, much like Darwin had so brilliantly noted. You take a role and embrace it, but know that you arenever whole, and those who fall in love with you or otherwise fall for your performance, not you, for you is never constant. 

I suppose some shadows do not wish to be such.  Striving for individuality within a world fated to try and keep it from them.  Some might yearn to partake in the joys of photosynthesis and try to bend away from the objects blocking their path to the source; unaware that in order to change shape, to grow, to break away, they depend on the very thing they are attached to, oblivious to the fact that the shadow requires its partner to change and grow before it can. 

What can truly become of a person or thing when it’s never seen?  Does it become a specter, simply haunting its host? Does it pull the host back? Ground him?  Keep him from flight?  Reveal to him that he is only human, forced to live within the same trapping that binds all other mortals: To be behind the sun rather than beyond it.

The shadow bearer is left with three paths to choose from, all of equal importance and different morality.  To embrace his parasitic shadow, comforting himself with its existence, turning his back to the sun and facing the shade, keeping from turning towards the light.  He can stand within the shade of a different object, eliminating his own shadow and living his life within the form of another.  Or he can keep looking towards the sun, consciously turning from the presence of the stalking darkness, but ignoring the desperation, movements, and pleas of the wraith. 

When you are born into a body that takes the image of another, you ask yourself a question much like the famous “chicken and egg” conundrum.  Do you take the form of he or does he take the form of you?  The answer became a needed justification of superiority, capable of transforming you into the host or into the guest. 

My brother, my twin, a full moon’s light may pale in comparison to the sun, and perhaps the moon is simply reflecting the light given to it by its host, but I will work with what is given to me and try to illuminate the lives of those who prefer the night.

HERCULANEUM, Italy — They are poignant snapshots of sudden death: huddled clusters of skeletal remains in what were once beachfront warehouses, immortalized for eternity when Mount Vesuvius smothered this ancient Roman town in A.D. 79.

“They died of thermal shock as they were waiting to be saved via the sea,” Domenico Camardo, an archaeologist, said recently as he surveyed dozens of modern-day skeletal casts of long-ago denizens. They carried with them jewelry, coins, even “20 keys, because they were hoping to return home,” Mr. Camardo added. “They didn’t understand that it was all about to end.”