The quiet after the woman has gone
Fifty years or more, still the light comes through like it always did
What secrets what joys did the battered ceiling keep in
Mourning redemptive
Playground laughter seeping undenied
Lovers, and lovely places, a man’s voice, a small wave crashes on the shore
Light flickered for a brief instant
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Safe
So many clues
every book, a unique story
and yet, abandoned
life goes on
Photo snaps put through Instagram process. The apartment (of a deceased relative) is in New York. I recently realized I still had these on my phone and thought they were haunting. Photos originally taken August, 2013.
Photo essay, #NYC apartment #instagram http://t.co/LyIgd56S3K