One powerful picture. One lost life.
In an article I read recently the story was startling, and held my attention well enough, but it was the picture that stuck with me.
Initially I all but ignored the picture, scrolling past it to the text. But as I read the text my brain began to make sense of the picture which accompanied it. The text dealt with a man named Owen Jones who was talking about his experience of being on a train when it collided with a suicide victim, and the impact it had on himself and everyone else on the train. He talks about the importance of those in positions of power to share their own experiences with depression, to make it more acceptable for people to come forward when they similarly struggle. He calls for change saying:
“I don’t know whose life ended under the train I was on, and neither do I know the circumstances that drove them there. I do know that, unless we address the stigma, the ever-declining support, the economic causes, and the sheer lack of voice, many more will take that last, lonely journey.”
The picture then became riveting then in its stark contrast and I could make out the figure of a train rounding a bend coming down the tracks. It was a tragic symbol, yes, of the suicide this man had experienced. However it was also a symbol of hope and the ever moving forward nature of life.