Windows into the Past

 

In my wanderings, I will roam through some of the small towns.  Seldom do I travel the Interstate any more.  I prefer the slower pace of the old two lane highway.  Many I have driven before, now I see things I used to fly past. 

I put some extra time into my trips now so I can pause for a bit at some of the more interesting things. 

Many of the smaller towns are fading, less farms and ranches to support the communities and the with the Interstate, people whiz on down the road.  Many building sit empty, ghosts of another era now walk the floors, open the doors. 

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Other days, they were active little hubs, people came and went.  Now they are collectors of ghostly webs spun from the past.

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Sometimes these old buildings get a new life.  An out of towner sees one and wants it or sees an opportunity.  Occasionally it is a retiree that likes to fix things up.  A small section gains new life and old falling apart sections gain a new look. 

Then the new owner moves on or passes on and the new life building fades back into the past again. 

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Sometimes it is hope faded.  A vision came to fruition soon to fade.  Empty the building sits, reminder of a hopes that was not shared.  There is a lure of country life.  There is also a harsh side of the romantic notions.  Too many people see nothing and pass by, pausing not to savor the country. 

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Many a dream sits dimly in repose.  Days of different life, lived at a different pace.  The siren song of the big city drawing the masses.  Listen to the ghosts talk.  hear the dreams lived out, fading into oblivion. 

New desires and wants cover over the old.  Wanting the new, buries the past. 

I trundle down the road, capturing moments, freezing them into pixels.  Later times, I return to see vacancies.  My memories are all I see. 

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2 thoughts on “Windows into the Past

  1. I enjoy and appreciate how you capture these scenes of rural life and the deterioration of dreams. The photo of the motel is so plaintive. I wanted to see into a room, to hear the room speak its memories. How we build and then forget. This is a lovely photo essay. Big Smiles – Happy

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