Sometimes I see weird things that I don't take pictures of. I still think about them, though.
Like that stray scrap of rope on the asphalt in the Wal Mart parking lot. I know it was probably for the cinderblock that held down the cart corral. But was it?
Like the park bench that somebody wrote "Bleeding Sassafras" on in Sharpie. Did they bemoan the fact that a tree was cut down to build the bench, and thus bled? Band name? Sexual position (oh God I hope not)?
I won't even detail the things that we sometimes find in library books, and left on the shelves. Some things are best unsaid (and unseen).
I was once driving down the highway and saw a minivan pulled up just after an exit. Two Hasidim were standing there, seemingly a father and son, side curls blowing in the highway breeze, white shirts bright. The son had a suitcase at his feet. His father was talking to him seriously.
Another highway one: a metal chair between two bushes on a slight hill, overlooking the Eastbound lanes.
No comments:
Post a Comment