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August 16, 2016

Home is where the House is, They Tell Me.

It’s a weird thing to look at a wall and think that you’re responsible for its well being. The wall which keeps you warm and safe, also requires you to keep it upright, airtight and water-proof. It needs to be colored properly. It’s up to you. You and the wall. You are there for each other.

What’s inside a brick? How does brick speak to wood? How does old paint look better when its old?

What happens when a backyard becomes a forest? What happens when you cut it all down?

If a dog poops in a backyard, and no one is there, does it stink?

The basement still smells like coal.

There are letters from 1954 in the basement, and old bottles with handwritten labels like “blueberry syrup,” “maple syrup.”

There are wildflowers and non-wild flowers in the backyard. There’s no way of knowing who was planted first.

In 1929, some men built this house and a few others on the block. They really liked checkered tiles. They really liked rounded corners. They really liked pointy roofs.

There’s a stack of Detroit Edison receipts from 1944-1974, old Disney figurines.

There’s a lot to do, but this time, the walls speak back.