I've posted on this before, the perfectly preserved Bog Bodies, which I've always been fascinated with. I want to touch on the subject again.
This was somebody. We don't know who, we don't have his name or history. We'll never know why this man died so violently. Maybe he wasn't the nicest while he was here? Maybe he was nice and died wrongfully. We'll never know. Maybe he was punished for stealing? Maybe he was gay. Maybe he was a little different than the "norm," whatever the norm was back then. He surely pissed someone off. Or did he hang himself? He wore his cap for the event.
It's funny how we cannot know any particulars, but we can know what he ate before he died. Barley and seeds. Far from our meals we eat today. Barley and seeds wouldn't keep me from passing out mid-shift during a dinner rush at the restaurant job.
But I can bet that somebody, if not multiple somebodies, loved him. I can bet he may have had loving parents and siblings or relatives. I can bet his eyes saw much. I can bet his hands worked hard. I can't bet his feet walked miles. I can bet he loved somebody, if not multiple somebodies. I can bet he died from something petty. Something that if you really think about the severity of it, it wouldn't matter within a year.
Now he's on display in a museum because his body was so well preserved by peat. His whiskers are visible. His scars can be seen.
He's art ..
I just think he deserves a little more than that.