Living Memory

I often return to the places I visit to see how they've fared over the years. Not every place; I tend to gravitate to the darker ones, either by appearance or the energy exuded. I'm never entirely sure which, or even how much of this is my own conscious decision. As often happens I simply find myself standing in front of a place like this and wonder how it is I got here. It's frequently a case where I hadn't set out to come, yet here I am. And it's usually at the optimum time of day, or month, out year, or lighting condition, or whatever. My arrival at this lonely house coincided with autumn leaf drop. I love seeing a carpet of fallen leaves instead of green grass. Great visual texture not to mention the metaphorical subtext of death of summer. I had seen progress on restoration of this house in the interceding years since my prior visit. I imagined the house would now be inhabited and the cloak of darkness would have been replaced with lawn furniture, recycling bins, bird feeders, and all of the trappings that come with a house full of life an energy. Instead I was greeted with this film noir version, shadowy, dark and sinister. I wondered why the house never seemed to prosper. I thought about the families that lived here in the past. Imagined what it must be like for them, if still alive, too drive past here and see it this way. Couldn't help but wonder if living here affected them adversely. Certain houses seem like bad seeds. Have a couple in my own neighborhood. Houses that seem unhappy and families cycle through more quickly that others. It's just that way.

Done