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More Nomadic Aesthetics
There by itself, in the weak sun that fall afternoon, The Aermotor windmill turned slowly in the breeze, marking time with a rhythmic scraping of the rotating axle. It was a sort of sentinel, standing watch over a barbed wired fence and wide open range. At some point, this windmill probably served some purpose, but what I can only guess. Like so many windmills, vestiges of past hopes and dreams, this one sentenced to a…
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Postcard Archive: December 2020
With the new month comes a new postcard. This month’s postcard comes from much closer to home. A maple I pass on my walk to and from work seemed to defy the monochrome of the world. Let me know if you want a copy. The last moments of red burn brightly in the otherwise monochrome world of early winter. By now even this color has faded to dark browns and fallen to the ground.
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He’s Still Alone
Staring at his phone while leaning on a pillar, he swipes up as he reads. Maybe it’s an email from a colleague, or a text from a friend, or his favorite site that passes itself off as news. In any case, his phone has his undivided attention. He never glances up, never looks around, never seems to notice that he is alone on the platform. The world doesn’t impinge on his experience. I wonder if…
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Stairway to …
Stairways lure you to climb them, to see what might be stashed or hidden at the top (or the bottom). The brave explorer climbs slowly, stairs creaking under the weight of each footstep, hoping to find something, anything. Stairways also frighten. The threat of some monster lurking in the attic (or the basement).
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Nomadic Aesthetics
For years I couldn’t imagine walking into an office building or a bank or department store or any other public space and not seeing an ashtray. Not because I noticed them, but because they were ubiquitous. Standing ashtrays just inside the entry doors, ashtrays on counters next to the bank teller, ashtrays attached to the wall between sinks in the bathroom. Fancy ashtrays always adorned the executive’s desk, often a tendril of smoke wafting up…
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Postcard Archive: November 2020
With the new month comes a new postcard. This month’s postcard comes from a moment when I paused in the plains of eastern Colorado to appreciate the moment. Let me know if you want a copy. The sun burst through the clouds for just a moment in defiance of the howling wind and rain, causing the grasses exploded in amber. Moments later, rain and snow returned, daring me to linger.
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Never Again
Behind some pine trees, in the corner of the park, stands a swing set. The old, heavy-duty kind. All galvanized pipes, chain, and hard rubber that will probably survive armageddon. This swing set happens to be for toddlers, the seats those horribly uncomfortable baskets designed by somebody who can’t recall the abrasions and pain these caused. Nobody uses this swing set any longer. Or any of the metal playground equipment. It has all been replaced…
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Stairs
Wandering through town the other day I walked by a building I’ve passed a hundred times. The most interesting aspect of the building was the astrology and tarot card reader that had a shop there for a couple years. With that gone, I scarcely give the building a second look. For some reason, I paused, wandered around the side, and looked around. There, above me was a set of stairs, an emergency escape of some…
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Just arrows
In so many ways life hasn’t yet returned to normal. The trains and rail stations are still empty. So I wonder, why did somebody feel the need to place a new sticker on the ground indicating which way to go? How many commuters pass this spot on any given day?
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Look closely
Linger for a moment to look closely at the shell in the display case. It has been there, the label claims, for more than a century. The curator who first selected it for display along with how many of the other workers who have tended to it over the years are now dead. Yet the shell continues to sit there, silently beckoning to occasional museum visitor. How many stop to appreciate its form? Perhaps only…