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I've been collecing 'wayward furniture' shots since I started with my K1000 seven years ago. I have many. Most have a story I've imagined. not this one.
I was lining up a dozen or so shots when the drunk lady bellowed out of her house across the street. she was screaming back into the house at (I assume) her husband demanding that he NOT lock her out. Some of the places I've shot have made it necessary for me to grow a peripheral to the eye on the back of my head. sometimes there are dangerous people around. she wasn't, but I kept my invisible eye on her anyway. She wandered around her yard doing her best pretending to do everything but watch me. I rolled my third eye as she began to saunter across the street toward me. I'm normally up for a conversation with a stranger, but I was cranky and in no mood to talk to an afternoon drunk.
"hey. what's so interesting about that chair?"
"It's dejected." I opted for the aloof hoping to ward her off.
"Huh! so why're you takin pictures of it?"
"I like to take pictures of things people've discarded. I have lots of pictures of trash."
I guess my sense of garbage empathy hit her deep because she needed to explain the chairs place in the community.
"You wanna know... that chair has a story. It was left here by a family. yeah. they moved to south america. they couldn't take it with them so they left it."
"they must have been heart broken."
"yeah. they left it right here. They tried to blow it up on Halloween. Buncha kids. they had firecrackers."
"they didn't do a very good job. I'd have been more thurough when I was a kid."
"Nah, we yelled at them and they took off."
"Yeah. and a homeless guy took the cushion a while ago..."
"probably wanted something to rest his head on."
"...probably for a pillow or something. I dunno. Yeah, it's been here for a month now."
"A month, eh? wow."
"Wait. no, wait, more like eight weeks now."
"Just been sitting here, eh?"
"yeah. hey do me a favour would you?"
"you want a print?"
"you want me to give you a copy of the picture?"
"yeah. that'd be great. i could give it back to them when they come back."
"When the family comes back I can give them the picture of their chair."
"I'm sure they'd be very happy. They must miss it terribly."
"I'll bring you a copy of the picture."
"that'd be great. You could just drop it in..." she began pointing in every direction except for her front door.
"In your mailbox?"
"yeah. in my mailbox. the blue one." her orange finger finally homed in on her mailbox. The blue one. The only one on the house.
"that's not a problem. I'll drop one by. I'm up this way often."
"that'd be great. thank you."
"Not a problem." I wandered off.
I'm excited to drop one off next week. I'm amused by the idea that this woman will have completely forgotten our conversation and wonder what the hell a picture of an old, rotten chair is doing in her mailbox. (The blue one.)
Also by Kreddible Trout
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