night_creature_03//hunchback

“They must have a Hunchback for a friend” is said of people who never let their interlocutors speak. Because, well, Hunchbacks can not speak. They lack vocal chords. Instead, to communicate, they weave. After spending much of their infancy inside of tombs and cellars, each Hunchback learns to spin the threads by watching spiders spin their webs. Each Hunchback weaves an unique pattern based on its personality -their voice, one might say- and others learn to read it. When a Hunchback gathers thread -usually taking them from the dead- it does not do so for itself, but to weave their thoughts and accounts into other Hunchback´s cloak. The length of their cloak is therefore measured by the Hunchback´s relationships: their whole life, and the life of others, documented in those garments. They dress their history, their tradition, their desires, and their secrets. Such is their proficiency in manual tasks that stories are told of a Hunchback who learned to play the piano. It is said that it composed such moving melodies that people in that town, torn apart by the sadness brought upon them by those sounds, torched down the piano to, in their words, set themselves free. Hunchbacks seem to be destined to silence. Or rather pushed into it, in my opinion, by the lack of knowledge and research on their culture.