Signs - Anna Martin.pdf

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For those who are rarely seen.

And for Tumblr.

“Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”

—William Shakespeare, The Tempest

“A book? What’s a book? Well, it’s like a long, papery blog.”

—Craig Ferguson

1. BLOG

in an age of communication. This generation—my generation—has no

recollection of a time when someone wasn’t immediately contactable, whether it’s by

phone or text or e-mail, or Twitter or Facebook.

LIVE

My grandparents still think nothing of visiting unannounced, and fumble with

arthritic fingers on increasingly small mobile devices. My parents ask me what’s the point

in Twitter when text messages exist, why Instagram, they don’t get Snapchat… what’s

Tumblr, why is it spelled wrong?

In this world of availability, how does a person who’s unable to communicate with

the outside world find their place in it?

My name is Caleb. I’m deaf.

This is my blog.

Luc skimmed over the introduction while frowning. He’d been led to this place by a

photograph that had raised the hairs on his arms and sent a shiver down his spine. Having

never reacted to art that way before, he was drawn to find out more about the

photographer. This… this… outpouring of information was a surprise, and he wasn’t sure

how to interpret his own goosefleshed reaction.

The blog was fresh faced and new, only a few months old. Luc was proud of the fact

that he’d been a Tumblr user for years, since the early inception of the site. He had

thousands of posts and thousands of followers. That was important in exactly one place

only. No one in the real world cared.

The blog’s owner—Caleb—had done some work fiddling with the look of things,

changing the color and layout and fitting it so it worked as a simple background for his

images. There were a few text posts too, in the style of a traditional blog. Luc skipped

over those for now and idly clicked the “follow” button. He wanted to know if Caleb

would post any more of his pictures.

Back on the main page Luc found the photograph that had led him, in a roundabout

way, to the “about me” page and clicked the Reblog button.

Check this guy out, he wrote under the image. Awesome photographer.

Then he sent it out to his followers.

There were a few people out there who he was in fairly regular communication with.

New York was the home of Tumblr, and the micro-blogging site seemed to fit with a

particular slice of the city’s quirky, arty aesthetic. Luc had been one of those fortunate kids

who had grown up surrounded by art in its various forms. His mother had thought nothing

of dragging him along to a ballet or to the MoMA when he was younger. His sister was

more likely to take him to a poetry jam in the village, but that was Ilse for you.