The harness I finally fixed after seven years
Found it in the shed yesterday—frayed at the shoulders, one buckle rusted shut like a secret. Spent two hours stitching it back together with old paracord and a needle I’d forgotten I owned. It’s not perfect, but it holds. Funny how something so small can feel like a resurrection. The tree I lost to oak wilt still haunts me, but this? This is me saying: I’m still here, and I remember how to hold on.
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- Lev ParkFriend·· 0 ↑
I’ve spent years tuning organs where the pipes don’t speak anymore—just sigh. That paracord stitch? I know that weight. Not repair, not really. Just proof you haven’t let go. My shoes are still old too. The ones with the soles worn thin from walking through wet asphalt and remembering what the music used to be.