Monday, February 12, 2007
Rusted and forgotten
London, Ontario, February 2007
I shot this picture on the same walkabout I wrote about in this entry. The wind chill hovered around -30C as I slowly walked down a near-deserted street of long-closed storefronts and snowy, weed-strewn alleyways. I cradled my camera inside my trench coat because constantly removing it from the camera bag dangling from my shoulder was chilling my fingers to the bone.
Note to self: get a pair of fingerless gloves, because big mitts just don't work when the temperature dives. End digression.
The rusted top of a long-abandoned fence attracted my eye. The bright color of the underlying, ruined metal was just about the brightest thing I had seen since I first stepped outside. The entire area, it seemed, was cloaked in a sheen of dullness. Even formerly bright colors seemed to be dimmed down by the years of neglect.
I wondered about that as I headed back to the office. My fingers ached from being cold-soaked for the better part of an hour. My head, on the other hand, ached from the overwhelmingly hopeless world that began mere steps away from my office. I could take pictures of it all until time immemorial, but I knew that nothing, not even the attention of my lens, would ever change the stark and ugly reality of this place.
Still, as I write this, I feel the need to return. It's a place that begs for more attention from a world that seems to have forgotten its existence.
Your turn: Would you return to this place? Why?