Blog Archives
…and then one day, no one returned
I’ve written about this before, about the mysterious things just get left behind when a business closes or moves away. This one looks like no one there knew it was the last time – the centerpieces moved off the tables for cleaning, the spray bottle down there on the bar, someone’s COVID mask left behind.
It feels like the last two people there said, “Yeah. That’s enough for today – we’ll come back on Saturday to finish up.” Only….
Lubbock County, Texas
photographed 5.16.2021
Building Permit and the Madonna
That’s a building permit taped into the window next to the madonna. The permit’s from a least a decade ago – it’s almost too faded to read but I was able to make out a few things: new roof, new ceiling, new floor, new plumbing were all listed. I am reasonably sure that none of those things have been done. I am less sure that there even still is a roof, actually.
Idalou, Texas
photographed 5.16.2021
you can’t tell me there is no mystery
If you’ve been around this place for very long, you know that my mind sometimes connects (seemingly, usually, at random) my images with specific song lyrics. This time it was the line “you can’t tell me there is no mystery” from Bruce Cockburn.
This photo was made through a screened window on the back of the sad little trailer I’ve posted a couple of other photos of. Everything here is now and will forever be mysterious to me.
Bledsoe, Texas
photographed 4.23.2021
A dubious claim
Well, sure, the sign does say “open.” But there is not one single other indication that this is indeed the case. (For example, there’s this photo of the back of the place.)
Bledsoe, Texas
photographed 4.23.2021
Time is a cruel master
Obviously – since there are no tires or anything – it’s been a minute since this travel trailer traveled anywhere.
Unless you count its current route toward destruction as a trip.
Bledsoe, Texas
photographed 4.23.2021
One Day | One Image 