You, me and everyone in-between
Shhhhh! Are we alone? I hope so because I am about to reveal a secret that’s meant to stay just between you and me. I have a secret longing or obsession you might call it. It’s not anything dirty and no I’m not a serial killer. But it is kind of weird and lately it has been driving me crazy. It involves my insane curiosity and a love of vintage bubbles and old weathered buildings. This fetish has caused me to engage in several drive-by shootings. I’ve been caught lurking while on foot in the past and told that I can’t photograph this place. As strange as this sounds, the words “you can’t” only makes me want to do it all the more.
The weathered red doors and thick wavy glass call my name. It beckons my car to drive across the old cobbled bricks and take it’s picture and then this quiver takes over my body and I yearn for so much more.
What I really want- is to see what lies beyond those antique doors and rusted panes. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of old chairs and vintage light fixtures hanging from the old wooden beams. My heart beats out of control and it’s all I can do to keep myself from pulling over and running for an unlocked door. Hell I’d even climb in a window if I thought I wouldn’t get caught. Just this afternoon as I drove past the crumbling bricks, covered in ivy, I saw something that tempted me beyond restraint. I quickly pulled my car to a halt and began to unbuckle so I could take advantage of just the moment I had been waiting for. It was an open door. I had to beat on my chest to bring back my own breath.
What do you see inside the door? I know there are treasures just waiting to be seen and they lay just beyond that door. The lofty architecture of old buildings makes my head spin and the thought of vintage furnishings left untouched sends me over the top. I slipped on my darkest sunglasses and wrapped a scarf around my head but before I could open the car door, it happened. That damn landlord came poking his head out and started toward me. You can bet I started her up and put my foot on the gas. I pulled away as quick as I could and never made eye contact.
Why do I do this? It’s not a crime to drive down that cobble path. Some of the old mill has small business tenants. Why can’t I simply ask for a tour? The very same thing that draws me to this place also makes me reluctant to ask for a deeper look. This place makes me crazy and I am desperate to know what lies behind her walls. It’s an obsession that grows stronger with every year. I think I remember entering the front building for a furniture sale when I was a young child but I can’t be sure. I vaguely recall huge cement steps that were hard for me to climb. Maybe I saw something that intrigued me then or perhaps I am afraid to dismantle the fantasy- of me in all my glory- finding weathered treasures and vintage bubbles left behind. I have even dreamed about it. Maybe I just know deep down that this ridiculously crazy fetish needs to be laid to rest, once and for all.
Do you see what I mean about the shadows that are cast just inside the windows? Are you intrigued? Am I the only one who has crazy obsessions or do any of you have secret desires that pull you in like a magnet, for no apparent reason? Do you think I am a bit strange or is there more to this calling? Leave me your thoughts on this- I need to know!
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