I can’t quite put my finger on what it is about abandoned houses that draws me in.  It makes me sick to see the condition of these houses.  They were someone’s home.  Who were they?  What were they like?  Are the still alive?  Where are they now?  What is their story?  What is their STORY?  I think that’s what it really is…. each of those houses holds a story.  I look at each one and I can easily imagine a family…. what Christmast looked like, summertime with kids in the yard, fall with pumpkins on the porch…  Maybe it was a family that struggled… a single mom raising 2 boys, a husband with a sick wife.  Maybe there was a lot of joy when a child came home from the war.  There were prom dresses, engagements, births, sickness, birthdays, loss, pets, chores, grandparents, Easter egg hunts… All of it.  I want to walk through the houses, touch the walls, imagine each room filled with furniture, maybe find a forgotten photo tucked in a closet.


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