Providence 4

The buildings have wilted and crumbled; fallen from times of Television sets and new dinnerware. Their residents have dulled with them, fragments of previous glamour.




The bricks are caked with old fires. Perhaps there was a bedroom here, and a dresser in the corner. The foundation remains, but the rest has been converted to ashes.




Blankets line some corners. There is still deep silence, but there is something here, bubbling from the floorboards and lying under the roof when it rains. As a sprout cracking concrete, there is life emerging here.


Are we to remember the past, or leave it to whither away?