occasionally, i have noticed, that, very neatly, efficiently, and probably quite clandestinely, there are scrawled, into what were once nothing more than standard, utilitarian squares of drying cement, strewn across a grid of seemingly random streets…

a number of, what seem to be inter-related images of hearts and aarows, right there on the sidewalks around the city, hiding, unchanged and in plain sight, directly beneath our collective feet…

and, notably, each of these hearts have one specific thing in common:

the name – ‘caroline’.

i truly love the discovery of this kind of ephemeral, very personal reminders of somebody’s attempt at the obsequious and eccentric proof of life and permanence…

proof that they were somehow compelled to make this, a statement in stone, that they were, at that time at least, a feeling being, and most importantly, as in a signature, this symbol would stand as a declaration; one that speaks of us, that we, as one, were once truly here…

that they and we were once real…

that they and we once ascribed this very message as if stabbing at some register of urban and arcane immortality…


leaving behind a basic, yet immortal symbol, as plain as a primary color, in a voice and language we can, all of us, understand…

one that says, here, us humans once meant something.

even if none of us, other than its creator, even know or knew its ubiquitous and most probably quite inert meaning.

but, in its alluring ambiguity, it stands as a timeless communal reminder OF us; and that we, now, or, back in what then will be the nameless and distant past…that we, then and now, still felt SOMETHING, that we still found meaning, somewhere or everywhere, strewn across the human landscape, in the anonymous wash of ourselves and, in the case of the mysterious ‘caroline’, someone else…or even AS, something else, enirely, which is – each other.


this, to me, says that even when, deep into the future, when, of course, no one here now will be left to remember our names or our lives, as individuals and as involuntary cogs in the hurtling wheel –

– that we, all of us, are as one; a wicked and beautiful,
homogenous leviathan.

even then, someone, some warm day, or some orange night, will stare down at the same, then ancient, perhaps barely decipherable symbol…

and they will kick away the last of the dirt and dust of time and life and space and death and ponder, as i do everytime i pass these subtle messages, even now, right now in fact, right here in the very real, very distinctly never ending present…

like me, he or she or it or they will wonder…

who or what, is and was –


someone out there knows, or knew.

someone…somewhere…either took the chance to place their own name into the lottery of time, OR, as i prefer to imagine, it was another, who, for reasons, to me, remain unknown, cast away their own chance at immortality and instead gave the honor and great responsibility to someone else –


her name, now etched into a grey, formless square of placid concrete.

her name, in its simplicity, now tied, earthbound, even if she is not.

that one girl, this one ‘caroline’…


this one is for you – whoever you are –



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