We're here for an Amanda Palmer concert I simply had to attend, despite the 5+ hour drive there and back to Wilkes-Barre later that evening. My boyfriend of over three years is with me. Our relationship has gotten weird in a way foreign to me. Maybe I'm too withdrawn. Maybe we BOTH are too withdrawn. Am I boring? Uncompassionate? Unrelatable? I'm tired of figuring it out, so I opt to go on adventures with him to see what happens, figuring if we keep moving whatever the problem is will level out and we'll pave over it.
To take advantage of the long drive, we leave early to check out the town.
The street is busy, narrow, and full of folky thift, music, and noodle shops. I bought throat losenges at an old apothecary, and refer to the tin of elderberry candies as if they were from an antique shop.
A park in town offered the public pieces of chalk to draw and write on its asphalt and concrete walls.
I buy a ukulele at the music store and wind up holding it beween my legs during the entire concert.
Then we went into the candle store.
At this time in my life, I wasn't one to gush over tapered candles or candles in general. I liked them plenty, but they weren't present at my altar as much as they were scattered on countertops and passively in in the living room.
This shop had every shape, color, texture, and scent of candle you could possibly imagine along with a selection of small gifty items I don't remember buying. I grabbed a few mini neon drip candles as a gift for my friend.
In the back they had this mostrosity. It was a pillar cluster of dripped wax. Layers upon layers of wax. Years and years of wax. Small knick knacks were nestled in the colored stalactites.
A sign nearby told us oglers how many years it took to create.
It was far more than three years.
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