There was an old house nearby which always hurt my eyes to look at because of the shabby way in which it was kept. This happens quite often, I would suppose, as the homes become like the owners- old, older, broken, and finally kaput. It is not difficult to accept because it is plain fact, but sometimes it does hurt a little.
So, when the old house was torn down (the majority of it), I wandered in to an area well out of sight (the remnants of a living room) and snooped around, taking a few visual memories and photographs before it was goodbye forever. Time being as quick as it is, it was adieu inside of a day, and now there is nothing left but an empty lot.
I am sure some atrocity will take its place. Isn't that usually the case? I didn't make any attempt to stop it, so who else but myself to blame?
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