1st
Snapped this one on our Canada Day bike ride.
I’ve driven by this house many times, but it wasn’t until I saw this door left standing open that the sadness of it all hit me.
The back lot of the Bytowne Cinema. I was on my way to see what I thought was The Wrestler; turns out that was playing at the Mayfair Theatre, but I enjoyed the 4 p.m. show of The Reader nonetheless.
It’s very strange: daily living against the backdrop of a big change that’s still many months away. There are many things to do, and my motivation ebbs and flows as you might expect; but, frankly, some significant stretches of time bring the movie Groundhog Day strongly to mind.
This feeling is stronger this week, and I think the new paint on the walls and boxes in the rooms are largely to blame. At the risk of revealing how utterly unoriginal my thinking is, I feel like I could close my eyes and open them again on a moment ten minutes in my past, and close and open them again on the same scene three days in my future, just like Doctor Manhattan. Note that I didn’t reference my distant future: I know this will all change dramatically in what is really the very near future; it’s just that this illusion is so heavy sometimes.
My days are full, but it is easy to lose the path that connects them, on this, the long change.