No one told them that their jobs were finished. They were never properly dismissed or let go.
Informed that their necessity had waned.
They continued to attend. Even after temples were shut and shrines dismantled.
Always faithful, always devoted.
Incapable of being anything less.
Now they sit in corners of musty shops.
Paint peeling and gathering dust.
Collecting offerings for forgotten gods.
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.