be_here_now raze sybren's last two monkey-shaped gifts: 1. a bronze philosopher in two pieces. he sits on a dense stack of books. i count at least twenty. the tome he's made the cushion of his improvised chair is open, like the robe he wears. he holds a magnifying glass up to a human skull and considers the business of evolution. there's a smaller book balanced between his legs. that one's open too. both texts quote from charles darwin. this passage plucks the strings that stretch across my ribcage: "there is grandeur in this view of life, with its several powers, having been originally breathed into a few forms or into one; and that, whilst this planet has gone cycling on according to the fixed law of gravity, from so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being, evolved." 2. an intense woodsman in a plaid shirt, clutching a log. it's a ceramic figurine. but it's so detailed, and so white, i was sure it was ivory until my fingers touched it and told me otherwise. thursday we bought sybren a bouquet of flowers. i don't know what their names were. i only know the colours they showed. orange, red, and yellow, with a few sprigs of green to keep them honest. they were scentless, as far as i could tell. he wasn't home. we propped up the surprise behind his storm door and left. he was in the park yesterday. we saw him almost as soon as we got there. a new friend was resting on the curb. this was the one sybren called a ninja. he looked like a european soldier to me. eyes wide. forehead creased in concentration. or fear. or both. staff strapped to his back. arms and legs poised to defend against some unseen threat. "did we get you yesterday?" my dad asked. "did you get me?" "the flowers." "those were you? i had no idea who they were from! there was no note or anything. they're beautiful. thank you." he hadn't come here to repay our act of kindness. he was just being himself. this is what he does. i took a picture of the sculpture. i picked it up. it felt good in my hand. "now, i believe that was part of a set of eight or nine," sybren said. "but i only ever had the one." he told us why he wasn't home when we dropped off the flowers. "i was in sarnia. my sister just had a massive stroke. i drove out there to be with her. she's in the last two days of her life now. so i'll be driving back for her funeral. i learned something yesterday. the people you care about — it's important to tell them you love them. you do it today. because it might be the last time you get to say anything to them." he looked at me. "tell your dad you love him," he said. then he walked away. 220626 what's it to you? who go blather from