Photo Story: Good Form
The statues remind me of the dads I still mold with play-dough sometimes. How skilled I’ve become with the point of a toothpick, carving kind eyes and crescent moon smiles. The arms are the hardest since I want them outstretched, open for a hug, waiting for me like Dad used to do. But no matter how I try, the arms always droop.
“Can’t carry his own weight,” Mom commented once.
The statue men have hands neatly folded behind them. How dignified they look, how well molded. How unlikely to droop or fall. How certain they’re not going anywhere at all.
Photographer: Ilkke Harmanen
Beautiful. sad. very moving.
Good story, powerful