rebel line, Montgomery AL

Montgomery, Alabama. Forecast of an afternoon thunderstorm. A layer of cement covers the raw flesh of the earth, just barely.
A long crack in the pavement caught our eye. A crooked, organic, rebel of a line, cutting through a rigid concrete geometry that aims to keep things in order. We stopped to stitch this scar. To acknowledge the wound and invest in the healing. Chance would have it that right here, in this exact spot, once stood a bus stop. In this exact spot, Rosa Parks boarded that bus. Right here, where the pavement feels as tender as skin and as tough as history. Right here, a line was drawn as part of a much larger picture. A persistent, winding line, decidedly pushing forward.
We are the sums of our pasts, of both our radiant triumphs and of our bloody crashes. It is only by embracing our falls, our scars, our sins, that we can truly heal and progress. Lightning, thunder. We moved on.

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