Halfsies

I saw this house one day from the highway. It's actually quite close to the library, though not on a main street. One day last month, Fin was kind enough to walk by the house with me so I could take photos without worrying too much about someone stealing my camera.

After a few minutes of constant shutter action Fin asked, "What's the fascination?" For a few seconds I'm stymied. I mean really, absolute ruin DOES fascinate other people, right?

"It's like half a house," I say. Then I add, "Or like one of those doll houses where you look in the back and the whole house is exposed so you can move the dolls around." In my mind, it makes complete sense, people lived here, were happy and sad, cooked meals, made love, the whole shebang. This was a home, part of a story. Now, it's just a memory. To me, that seems photo worthy.

But then, Fin thinks it's a bit strange that I like wandering cemeteries. I find them peaceful. Of course, cemeteries tell parts of stories too and I guess in the end, that's what this boils down to. I like this house and it's photo worthy because it is part of a story. Someone painted the a front room blue and the kitchen yellow. It may be a story I don't know but it's a story nonetheless.