Here For The Chaos

there was once a little boy.

he is born disabled. his body hurts, and he can’t walk properly the way the other children do. he doesn’t understand why. he’s a little boy. but he plays with wooden boats and pulls toys on a string.

somebody makes him a tunic. they sew ducks onto it in red and green and yellow and blue. the bright colours of a child.

the little boy is eight years old, and he’s going to be king now. there’s a big ceremony about it. he doesn’t really fully understand what’s going on, because he’s eight, but he wears the tunic with the brightly coloured ducks for the occasion because he loves it. look at his ducks! aren’t they great?

he is a child. the adults around him manipulate and coax him to gain more power for themselves. he still plays with toys.

as a teenager, not yet an adult, he fathers children. they do not survive. he’s not even old enough to have full agency in his job and is still being manipulated, but he had babies and they died.

he does not make it to his twenties. at eighteen or nineteen years old he dies, and is buried. his babies, so tiny, are buried with him.

and so is his tunic with the little ducks that he loved so much he kept it long after it no longer fit.

yeah i think that like. especially with historical figures in your mind people who were kings and queens or important nobles were adults. even if you know how old they were it doesn’t really click. it doesn’t seem real

but then you get something like a little tunic with brightly coloured ducks on it and it hits you like a fucking truck that this really was a little kid and no matter how far removed you are a little kid is still a little kid. their brains didn’t develop any quicker back then. he was just as developed/mature mentally as any 8 year old now. he had cartoonish animals on his clothes and he played with toy boats and probably terrorised the local cat population.

tutankhamun was a child and he didn’t make it to adulthood because he was unfortunate enough to be a very important child

his dad died when he was 8. he saw his own babies die when he was still just a boy himself.

tutankhamun had a little pair of sandals with ducks on them. he had earrings decorated with ducks. he kept those, and other items of childhood clothing. some toys. keepsakes. things he loved, and treasured. he kept them all in a little wooden chest. the chest… was carved with ducks.

and that little duck chest, filled with things he kept from his childhood, was buried with him. maybe he was keeping them for the little babies who did not make it. maybe they just reminded him of good days and fun times.

WITH PLEASURE

(greyscale makes it hard but the duck head is on the right above the toe strap. always takes me a while to find it too)

The patterns between them, to either side of what looks like lilypad/lotus flower petals, could very well be “ducks as seen from above.” There is a beak on the lower edge, a clear “head” shape above/behind it, darker ovals that look like folded wings, and a body/tail. I didn’t see the red circled ducks first, I saw the “swimming on a pond” ducks amongst the lotus flowers.

If you get into white work embroidery, you might discover cutwork. And when you start doing cutwork, you might get curious about incorporating detached elements. And before you know it the fabric is gone, you are making needle lace, and there goes the rest of your week.

Buttonhole stitch - not even once.

This is the one song everyone / would like to learn: the song / that is irresistible:

the song that forces men / to leap overboard in squadrons / even though they see the beached skulls

the song nobody knows / because everyone who has heard it / is dead, and the others can't remember.

Shall I tell you the secret / and if I do, will you get me / out of this bird suit?

I don't enjoy it here / squatting on this island / looking picturesque and mythical

with these two feathery maniacs, / I don't enjoy singing / this trio, fatal and valuable.

I will tell this secret to you, / to you, only to you. / Come closer. This song

is a cry for help: Help me! / Only you, only you can, / you are unique

Gladly!