Dear Kurt,
A few days ago I got back from Seattle where I spent a few hours hanging the flyers in hopes that your case will be re-opened.
I hung them sporadically and randomly. Hoping that I would be granted enough sunshine for a few days for people to read them.
I watched one man approach as we walked away, a glimmer of satisfaction in my heart that hopefully, your soul, through my hands, would be granted peace of mind.
Another girl saw your photo on the page as she passed and said, "Wait. What about Kurt Cobain? Can I have one of those to read?"
It felt good to feel as though people still care. Later that night I hung one outside the bar where I was drinking, and later I casually stepped outside for a cigarette. I watched as a guy approached the poster and read it from start to finish.
My heart soared with satisfaction. Just the idea of reminding people of your beautiful soul sixteen years later. A soul that had no intention of being remembered as some suicide statistic.
In the span of two days... I visited your birthplace... And the place of your death. And as I taped the flyer to the bench on your old property -- staring up at the window of the house where your life was claimed...
My heart broke. I took a few puffs from my smoke before I crushed it out on the ground -- and noticed all the other cigarettes smoked in that exact location. All the people who came to pay their respects to a man we could all relate to, smoking those cigarettes in contemplation asking themselves why?
Asking why... Why you, Kurt?
Why you?
Peace, Love, Empathy,
Justice Seeker
A few days ago I got back from Seattle where I spent a few hours hanging the flyers in hopes that your case will be re-opened.
I hung them sporadically and randomly. Hoping that I would be granted enough sunshine for a few days for people to read them.
I watched one man approach as we walked away, a glimmer of satisfaction in my heart that hopefully, your soul, through my hands, would be granted peace of mind.
Another girl saw your photo on the page as she passed and said, "Wait. What about Kurt Cobain? Can I have one of those to read?"
It felt good to feel as though people still care. Later that night I hung one outside the bar where I was drinking, and later I casually stepped outside for a cigarette. I watched as a guy approached the poster and read it from start to finish.
My heart soared with satisfaction. Just the idea of reminding people of your beautiful soul sixteen years later. A soul that had no intention of being remembered as some suicide statistic.
In the span of two days... I visited your birthplace... And the place of your death. And as I taped the flyer to the bench on your old property -- staring up at the window of the house where your life was claimed...
My heart broke. I took a few puffs from my smoke before I crushed it out on the ground -- and noticed all the other cigarettes smoked in that exact location. All the people who came to pay their respects to a man we could all relate to, smoking those cigarettes in contemplation asking themselves why?
Asking why... Why you, Kurt?
Why you?
Peace, Love, Empathy,
Justice Seeker
