Adjusting III

 

III

I take a deep breath and step inside an abandoned house on the ridge. His shadow steps behind me. I think I'd say be careful on the floor here remembering how he's twice the size of me, but his memory holds no more weight than that which hangs on my heart so I keep my tongue silent. I'm not that crazy, yet. Brooklyn tugs on the lease tied to my left pants loop. He never likes it inside this one, I think he knows its going to collapse soon, but its my favorite so I ignore him and trudge towards the room I've been meaning to re-photograph. Inside its exactly how I left it. The landscape painting lies diagonal across the floor in a bed of its own shattered glass, the dresser leaning upright against a wall. One thing has changed since my last visit, the ceiling of the floor above me has fallen onto the stairs so that they are completely blocked. Very well, I think to myself, I know I should have never been climbing on them anyway and am thankful the collapse has happened since my last visit. Brooklyn and I would have easily been trapped up their, or worse, but I don't want to think of the dangers of what I'm doing. It makes for hasty, sloppy photographs. Instead I turn my thoughts to my friends back home again. Follow me through this room - watch out for the rubble – there! Ta daaa! Its the best view of Braddock! And there my memories stand with me, on the third story of a building, looking out through a brick wall that is no more.