heartbreaking conclusion to bridget's creating career. have you ever been caught in the pouring rain? perhaps it comes upon you slowly, or suddenly, but nonetheless it invokes such uncontrollable insignificance over your poor circumstance, nature's assertion over your man-made modernisms. it's isolating and hopeless and individual, and it's such an apt name for Bridget's battle against cancer and mortality. everything was so unfair to her, everything about this, and theres nothing anybody can do about it - all of a sudden, the sun has shrouded itself, and the darkest kinds of clouds have come rolling in, and feelings of safety and warmth seem so far away.

i can't imagine what it would feel like to have cancer, the onerous task of dealing with your increasingly apparent ephemerality. being forced to face your end at such a young age for a blossoming artist is petrifying, your imminent terminus drawing hopelessly closer. nobody deserves to go through this, right?

and yet,

caught in the rain's undue optimism prevails onwards and forever. This level is the coming of the sun; the idea that celebration of all things good is the only way forward. look at the girls, theyre holding umbrellas, arent they? theyre not disconcerted by the rain. the yellows (and blues, and greens!...) of the sun envelop the level, and optimism and hope and joy permeates through, sending a clear message to everyone: celebrate what you have while you have it.

she was the best you could ask for in a pioneering experimental creator and will continue to inspire others years from now, i'm sure of it. rest in peace