Letters From The Museum Of Pain: Orphanage


“Dear Ma,

We don’t believe in the concept of a God up above. We don’t believe in miracles or fate. People keep telling us how we don’t need tangible evidence to believe in these things. But it doesn’t really matter, does it? We don’t believe in God, so how can you expect us to believe in you? One of the other kids told us about his mom, about how he remembered clutching the top of her shirt with his tiny little fist, about how she would kiss him on the head and then on his nose and then on his chin and his cheeks and… about how his father drank himself to death and took his ma with him. But you ain’t dead, are you? No, you left us in the hands of strangers when we wanted, needed, your warmth, your scent, you. Our “instructor” told us there are 7 billion human beings on this planet, yet out of these, two decided to dump us into homes for boys. Well, we ain’t boys anymore, ma. And you still ain’t here. You weren’t there when this girl told me she loved me (Wayne) and then a beautiful family adopted her and took her away. You weren’t there when I (Kent) had surgery for when my appendix burst. No, ma, where were you? We searched our dreams, raided our nightmares only for a glimpse of you. We continued to be each other’s keeper, stayed awake when the other suffered, but wasn’t that a job meant for you? We wonder if it’s better for us to assume you crossed the rainbow bridge long ago because then at least, we have a shot at loving you. So tell us, are you dead?

From the Orphanage,

Wayne and Kent.”

– Rubani Kaur

Letters From The Museum Of Pain: Afterlife

Letters From The Museum Of Pain: Stranger

Letters From The Museum Of Pain: Triggers

Photography Credit: Michal Janek


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