A Bridge of Wood
The number of people that came here via bridges that Tim built is not small, and a large number remain as members of our community. In deciding to tell this story, the presence of this group of readers was weighed against the presence of those who will always view Tim through the lens of his violent demise. Tim had some very ardent supporters and yet there were those who danced on his grave, most readers will be on neutral ground - wondering how such things could come to pass.
When I said that Tim had a lot of friends I meant that, and all of his friends were very surprised to learn of his death. Tim had a lot of friends for a reason, community is the very basis of all life in the new land, as important as carbon or oxygen are in the real. Our sense of community is not necessarily encompassing, we all have ideas, opinions and beliefs. Tim was someone who created a sense of community through his efforts. The people who listened to Tim were the people that Tim listened to, Tim cared deeply about people and this worked against him on more than one occasion.
Tim didn't have a free ride here in this land but in many ways he was aware of his power, this awareness had it's effect on Tim. Tim was a technician, he knew the medium well but he managed to do other things that went beyond the basic skill set. We create our personas drawing on experience, on shared realities and some additional ephemeral quality which imbues each keystroke and Tim had this quality in spades. I know that some of his friends will read this and understand it more clearly than others, people that Tim touched rarely forgot that touch. As Tim touched others, he was touched, it isn't enough to send, you have to receive. We exist here only in the minds of our readers, the messages we read and the things we say build the new land in our mind, bit by bit, think about this as you look around, there is no end of starting points and the blood in the veins of the new land is a paint, thick with all manner of things. |
