The illustrated companion

A life, in fragments.

Nineteen images from the original visual world. A radiator, a mask, a sanctuary, a fracture. Open an image to linger.

The gallery is a visual interpretation; chapter titles may reveal part of the journey.

Begin with the radiator

01 / 19
The Radiator's Song
It was a song of deep, warm orange. Not a flat, crayon orange, but a living, breathing color, the color of a sunset, of a bonfire, of a ripe persimmon. It was a color that had a taste, a taste of honey and cinnamon. It was a color that had a texture, the texture of warm, soft flannel. It was a color that had a feeling, the feeling of being held, of being safe, of being loved.
From The Scars of Light · a companion passage.
02 / 19
The Performance
I became a master of camouflage, a social chameleon. I learned to study the dominant species, the popular kids, the athletes, the cheerleaders. I observed their speech patterns, their clothing choices, their musical tastes, their subtle and not-so-subtle social cues. I became a student of normality, a scholar of the mundane. I took notes. I practiced in front of the mirror. I created a persona, a character, a mask. I named him “Mike.”
From The Scars of Light · a companion passage.
03 / 19
The Secret Symphony
I would lie on my bed for hours, the headphones clamped over my ears, the music washing over me in waves of color. It was a controlled synesthesia, a safe way to experience the magic without the danger of being overwhelmed, without the risk of being seen. It was a secret garden, a hidden sanctuary, a place where I could feel without fear.
From The Scars of Light · a companion passage.
04 / 19
The Sanctuary of Words
And it found one. It found one in the most unlikely of places. It found one in the dark, dusty, and forgotten corners of the school library. It found one in the pages of a book. It found one in the words of a long-dead poet. It found one in a single, perfect line of green. A line that would remind me of a place I had almost forgotten. A place of peace. A place of stillness. A place of light. A place called the overpass.
From The Scars of Light · a companion passage.
05 / 19
The Tower of Ambition
I was climbing. I was ascending. I was building my tower of success, brick by painstaking brick. But the higher I climbed, the more isolated I became. The more I achieved, the more empty I felt. The fortress I had built to protect myself had become a prison. The armor I had forged to shield myself had become a cage. And the boy inside, the boy of color and light, was a distant, forgotten prisoner, his voice a silent scream in the soundproofed dungeon of my soul.
From The Scars of Light · a companion passage.
06 / 19
The Ghost in the Machine
But it was a passive experience. I was a consumer of someone else’s magic, a visitor in someone else’s world. I was not creating. I was not participating. I was just listening. I was a ghost in the machine of my own life, a silent observer, a lonely audience of one.
From The Scars of Light · a companion passage.
07 / 19
The Fracture
I got out of bed and went to the bathroom. I stood in front of the mirror and stared at my reflection. And then I saw it. It was a faint, almost invisible line, running vertically down the center of my forehead. It was not a cut, not a scratch, not a wrinkle. It was a crack. A tiny, hairline fracture in the smooth, pale surface of my skin.
From The Scars of Light · a companion passage.
08 / 19
The Collapse
The promotion was not a victory; it was a tipping point. It was the final, and heaviest, and most unbearable weight on a structure that was already on the verge of collapse. It was the beginning of the fall. A fall that would be long, and dark, and terrifying. A fall that would strip me of everything I thought I was, and everything I thought I had. A fall that would, in the end, be the only thing that could save me. A fall into the arms of the boy I had left behind. A fall into the heart of the light.
From The Scars of Light · a companion passage.
09 / 19
The Shattering
But the fault line was still there, just beneath the surface. The pressure was still building, deep in the tectonic plates of my soul. And one day, the earthquake would come. An earthquake that would shatter my fortress, topple my walls, and leave me buried in the ruins of my own carefully constructed life. An earthquake that would finally, and irrevocably, break me open.
From The Scars of Light · a companion passage.
10 / 19
The Fall
And in that moment, I knew that my journey was not over. It was just beginning. The fall was not the end; it was the beginning of the climb. But a new kind of climb. Not the frantic, and desperate, and soul-crushing climb of the man who was trying to escape himself, but a new, and slow, and patient, and joyful climb. The climb of a man who was learning to be himself. The climb of a man who was learning to love himself. The climb of a man who was learning to share his magic with the world.
From The Scars of Light · a companion passage.
11 / 19
The Tribe of the Fallen
I was a new man, a man who had been to the bottom and back, a man who had been broken and healed, a man who had died and been reborn. I was a man with a story to tell, a song to sing, a light to share. I was a man who was ready to begin the long, and slow, and patient, and joyful process of climbing out of the void, and into the world. I was a man who was ready to live.
From The Scars of Light · a companion passage.
12 / 19
The Diner
My first step was a small, and hesitant, and terrifying one. I got a job. Not a high-powered, and soul-crushing, and ridiculously well-paying job on Wall Street, but a simple, and honest, and blessedly anonymous job. I became a dishwasher in a small, and grimy, and wonderfully chaotic Greek diner in a part of town that was a vibrant, and noisy, and beautifully messy symphony of life.
From The Scars of Light · a companion passage.
13 / 19
The Tribe
I had been a dishwasher for almost a year. I had found a strange, and beautiful, and unexpected kind of peace in the simple, and honest, and blessedly anonymous work. I had found a family in the loud, and funny, and beautifully, and gloriously, and unapologetically alive tribe of the diner. I had found a home in the small, and grimy, and wonderfully chaotic universe of the kitchen. I was safe. I was hidden. I was happy, in a quiet, and gentle, and unassuming kind of way.
From The Scars of Light · a companion passage.
14 / 19
The Return
And in that home, we created a new kind of life. A life that was not about climbing, or achieving, or succeeding, but about being. A life that was not about having, but about giving. A life that was not about being perfect, but about being real.
From The Scars of Light · a companion passage.
15 / 19
The Symphony of the Mundane
This realization did not come to me in a flash of lightning, or a clap of thunder, or a vision of a burning bush. It came to me in the most ordinary, and mundane, and beautiful of moments. It came to me while I was washing the dishes.
From The Scars of Light · a companion passage.
16 / 19
The Mirror
I looked at her, and for a moment, I was terrified. I wanted to hide the napkin, to crumple it up, to deny its existence. The old fear, the fear of being seen, the fear of being judged, the fear of being broken, rose up in me, a cold, and gray, and suffocating tide. But then I looked into her eyes, her beautiful, and kind, and accepting brown eyes. And I saw not a judge, but a friend. Not a critic, but a fellow traveler. Not a stranger, but a soul who understood the language of scars.
From The Scars of Light · a companion passage.
17 / 19
The Climb
And so I would push the panic down. I would turn back to my textbook. I would lose myself in the cool, clean, and blessedly emotionless world of supply and demand curves, of regression analysis, of macroeconomic models. I would continue to climb. I would continue to build. I would continue to disappear.
From The Scars of Light · a companion passage.
18 / 19
Kintsugi of the Soul
And I would watch her, and I would see not a broken woman, but a warrior. Not a victim, but a survivor. Not a ghost, but a goddess. I would see the soul of her, in all its terrible, and beautiful, and miraculous complexity. I would see the light that was hidden in the heart of her darkness. I would see the scars of light.
From The Scars of Light · a companion passage.
19 / 19
The Scars
I was seeing the world as it was, in all its terrible, and beautiful, and utterly miraculous complexity. I was seeing the soul of things. I was seeing the light that was hidden in the heart of the darkness. I was seeing the scars of light.
From The Scars of Light · a companion passage.