"You gotta think of a context".
Kindel did that for me, brought back some vivid memories that were startling in the force of their emotion. Good ones, too. The smile. Laughter. How we loved to laugh. When it was good, it was really good. Working on that beautiful art, pieces that we knew would last beyond ourselves. Listening to the radio on a cold, dark winter morning after first punching that clock, or sweating in the heat of the third floor in mid-summer, when we propped open those windows and adjusted the fans so they wouldn't blow away the gold leaf and powders...
And the sandwiches. Sitting on the cement ledge outside for lunch, eating those sandwiches that were made out of concern for my well-being, for our well-being. Always tried to take care of me in that way, when I had a tendency to be lazy about things like that. When I took that shot of those old window boxes, it hit me. 15 years, and I've never been attracted to anyone else.
I find that more curious than sad, actually.
I went back twice. Once the day after, where I ran into three different former employees that were there for the same reason I was; to look in wonderment, and a bit of mourning, at a building that held so many memories for so many lives. Individual histories that spanned the decades. I also went back on Memorial Day for the blue sky, and the knowledge that the area would be deserted on a holiday and I could reflect in quiet...
It would have been 100 years old next year. Probably not many people want to look at pictures of a burned-out building, but if you do you can find them here. I didn't put a lot up there, just a few that caught my eye right offhand. I don't see how the building survives after this. They couldn't sell it in the first place, and it's doubtful someone will want to put the floors and roof back in half the building now, or fix the water damage in the other half.
Maybe I'll go watch them tear it down if I get the chance.
Or maybe the memories are enough.