Goths have been accused of being obsessed with death for decades.
Not sure if it is completely true. I think we are fascinated by impermanence.
Leaves fall.
Relationships end.
Cats eventually become memories.
Cities change.
Our favourite cafΓ©s close.
Even mountains become sand if you give them enough time.
Knowing this does not make life darker.
It makes ordinary Tuesdays feel miraculous.
Perhaps wearing black was never about mourning.
Perhaps it was about remembering that nothing beautiful lasts foreverβ¦
β¦which is exactly why it is beautiful.
Now if you will excuse me, I have to walk through Trondheim dressed like I am attending a Victorian funeral while stopping every thirty metres to admire a particularly handsome crow.
