Valley Of The Frogs

This is a copper wire frog Alex made me that I’ve been carrying around in my backpack. He’d been working on it while we were waiting for something, I can’t recall where, when, or why. He always was so full of anxious energy that his hands never knew when to take breaks, always needing to do something, anything.

“The best way to enjoy frog legs? Spread ’em and suck” – The French

‘There’s a place where my mother’s family’s from called the Valley of the Frogs. And you’re French. We were destined to be together,’ he once told me. He had dreams of visiting, and running alongside the Tarahumara. ‘That’s probably why I can walk for such long distances,’ he’d explain, ‘those are my people.’

We were going to make it happen for his birthday in December this year. I’m not ruling out still going and doing it for him.

One cold evening, he handed me the crown after he’d unsuccessfully tried to put it on top of the dog’s head. He’d just found the spool of wire again, and not 10 minutes later, he handed me a finished head-topper. No real reason, just the result of his hands and mind working restlessly to create something.

(The plastic skull is from a burger joint in Pismo. He’d swiped it on our way out. It was close to Halloween and we were going to spend the next night in the woods. It was the most appropriate decor to pinch.)

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