uhhh so the number four is associated with death in certain cultures, including japanese, which is fitting for the butcher’s son, yes but just remember neil was supposed to be number three and jean was supposed to be number four ,and in every draft but one jean dies. he is symbolically saved from that fate by dodging the number four (being given, instead, the number three which represents REBIRTH of all things - i made a whole post about that if ur curious) because it means he was never marked for death. so in this draft, where he’s number three, but was supposed to be number four, he comes so close to death - to the point where renee doesn’t know how he’s still alive - because he was supposed to die, doomed by the narrative, but that number three saves him. that number three represents resurrection, and so he doesn’t die like he was supposed to. because he’s not number four, he’s number three. he comes back. he transforms, he heals. he becomes number 29 (i will eventually make a post about jean and the 29)
neil, though, was marked for death. he had the number four tattooed on him, and he goes through his own narrative believing he will die by the end of it. his survival, however, is foreshadowed in the very moment neil thinks he’s about to die - when he is kidnapped. lola burns the number four - the signifier of death - off his face, leaving him scarred, yes, but not marked for death anymore. and so he lives. and guess what: the number 10 represents the start of a new chapter, that one cycle is coming to an end and a new life is starting, one that you’ve worked hard for. so for the number four to be burned off of neil, that tells us neil is going to live. and when neil becomes neil legally, he settles into the number 10 properly. and his new life begins.
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it is all chaos and entropy. the thing is that the chaos and entropy make it beautiful and lovely.
yes, it's true that nature and the universe are uncaring and unspecific, and that is terrifying. i have lived through some of the unfairness - i got born like this, with my body caving into itself, with this ironic love of dance when i sometimes can't stand up for longer than 15 minutes. i am a poet with hands that are slowly shutting down - i can't hold a pen some days. recently i found a dead bird on our front porch. she had no visible injuries. she had just died, the way things die sometimes.
it is also true that nature and the universe are uncaring and unspecific, and that is wonderful. the sheer happenstance that makes rain turn into a rainbow. the impossible coincidence of finding your best friend. i have made so many mistakes and i have let myself down and i have harmed other people by accident. nature moves anyway. on the worst day of my life she delivers me an orange juice sunset, as if she is saying try again tomorrow.
how vast and unknowing the universe! how small we are! isn't that lovely. the universe has given us flowers and harp strings and the shape of clouds. how massive our lives are in comparison to a grasshopper. the world so bright, still undiscovered. even after 30 years of being on this earth, i learned about a new type of animal today: the dhole.
chance echoing in my life like a harmony between two people talking. do you think you and i, living in different worlds but connected through the internet - do you think we've ever seen the same butterfly? they migrate thousands of miles. it's possible, right?
how beautiful the ways we fill the vastness of space. i love that when large amounts of people are applauding in a room, they all start clapping at the same time. i love that the ocean reminds us of our mother's heartbeat. i love that out of all the colors, chlorophyll chose green. i love the coincidences. i love the places where science says i don't know, but it just happens.
"the universe doesn't care about you!" oh, i know. that's okay. i care about the universe. i will put my big stupid heart out into it and watch the universe feast on it. it is not painful. it is strange - the more love you pour into the unfeeling world, the more it feels the world loves you in return. i know it's confirmation bias. i think i'm okay if my proof of kindness is just my own body and my own spirit.
i buried the bird from our porch deep in the woods. that same day, an old friend reaches out to me and says i miss you. wherever you go, no matter how bad it gets - you try to do good.
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I've been thinking about the tragedy of Elizabeth Woodville living to see the end of her family name.
I don't mean her family with her husband, which lived on through her daughter and grandson. I mean her own.
Her sisters died, one by one, many of them after 1485. When Elizabeth died, only Katherine was left, and she would die before the turn of the century as well.
All her brothers died, too. Lewis died in childhood. John was executed. Anthony was murdered. Lionel died suddenly in the peak of Richard's reign, unable to see his niece become queen. Edward perished at war. Richard died in grieving peace. For all the violence and judgement the family endured, it was "an accident of biology" that ended their line: none of the brothers left heirs, and the Woodville name was extinguished. We know the family was aware of this. We know they mourned it, too:
“Buy a bell to be a tenor at Grafton to the bells now there, for a remembrance of the last of my blood.”
Elizabeth lived through the deposition and death of her young sons, and lived to see the end of her own family name. It must have been such a haunting loss, on both sides.
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