broken horses
broken horses are still wild
only worn and wounded by time
no amount of harm can diminish their passion
their spirit will remain even if hooves and hearts and memories are lost
being trapped in stone is not the same as being tamed
it simply makes them stronger
changing form cannot change nature
even broken horses run
so fast and swift that the pain
disappears in the wind
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.
hardest truths from softest wool
You will not want to consult the lambs—no one truly does—but the opportunity cannot be resisted if given.
So if the sun is right and they are waiting for you, ears alert and listening, you will enter their field under many small watchful gazes.
You will lean close to a single lamb and tell it your troubles.
And in return it will give you the truths that you do not want to hear.
That you are better off without her.
That it is not yet over.
That what is holding you back is yourself.
That you can only wait.
Then you will pet the lamb who has given you this burden and you will notice the softness of its fleece beneath your fingers.
And things won’t seem so bad.
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.
to the ones who do the leaving
This is an ode to the ones who do the leaving.
The ones who dare to break ties and hearts
because they know they are not princes in disguise,
are not one true loves,
are not cursed.
Those who cannot be anything but what they are
no matter how they try.
The ones who know that they are swans
even if they pretend to be princes for a time
out of politeness,
out of fear,
or to meet expectations.
Because it felt easier,
or safer,
to be something they are not.
The ones who told themselves lies
and sometimes even believed them.
The ones who have come to learn that staying is the cowardly act
and that running away can be brave.
The ones who find their voices,
find their feathers,
find their wings
and leave the familiar in favor of the unknown.
The ones who realize
they can be something true
somewhere else.
And to seek it
they must leave
the place where they were.
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.
lucky
Most patrons assume the name doesn’t actually mean anything, but establishments are not permitted use of the word “Lucky” unless they have approval from the Board of Fortuity.
The Board of Fortuity prefers to keep such things regulated, though the regulations are hardly public knowledge. Often the assessments are performed without the proprietor’s knowledge, but they are always assessed if they dare to use the L-word.
(Venues that do not pass assessment meet with unfortunate ends and are often deemed “unlucky” in headlines reporting their passings with predictable lack of creativity.)
To ensure approval, something provided by the Lucky-monikered establishment must provide legitimate luck. The assessments are quite thorough and only a few pass with colors resembling flying, most barely qualify and many of those will fail future reassessments.
Lucky Cat is the most popular though the only item on the menu that contains a significant amount of luck is the Jungle Bird, rarely ordered and even more rarely imbibed properly.
Once, someone ordered every lucky pastry at The Lucky Fig and managed to cheat death three times on his way home afterward, though he didn’t notice.
The luckiest of Lucky establishments is a Board of Fortuity secret but some suspect it belongs to a jeweler who unknowingly crafts her wares from extremely fortuitous metals, as her supplier has kept this information to himself.
No one will confirm or deny this, but it has not escaped notice that every member of the Board of Fortuity wears at least one piece of Lucky Stars jewelry.
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.
a welcome from the watchers
Welcome, new neighbor!
We would like to offer you a few reminders about the building.
Outgoing postal mail may be placed in the marked basket in the front hall.
Cardboard and glass recycling is sorted in the basement.
Please do not enter the hallway between the hours of 3:05am to 4:47am, no matter what you may hear.
Never, ever feed the sparrows in the backyard.
And please refrain from doing laundry on days with an “e” in them.
We wish you sunshine and happiness, even when it is raining.
We hope you will enjoy living here.
And we remind you that even though you may never see us, we are always watching.
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.
over land or over water
they make you choose before you depart
you cannot see the paths
they ask only if you prefer to travel over land or over water
(they are considerate enough to ensure that if you choose the water route, you have appropriate footwear)
you will think, as you attempt to navigate the slippery rocks with your rugged yet soggy boots, that those who choose the land route must have it easier and you will be certain that you chose badly, but this is incorrect
those who travel over land will seethe with envy as they remove stones from their boots and curse the birds that swoop down and peck at their ears
even as the fish nip at your heels
the choices are neither good nor bad, they are only choices
you could have chosen not to travel at all, to remain as you were
that wouldn’t get you anywhere.
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.