Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Escape


Not quite the grand staircase
London, ON, April 2008 [Click to embiggen]


I'm sure back alley staircases like this one could tell all sorts of stories of the things they've seen. That is, assuming that steel can actually see, of course. I'm not being literal, but I did wonder about the kinds of things that happened in this incredibly quiet back alley when the sun was on the other side of the planet and the shadows were much darker, longer and more ominous.

Your turn: So what does happen on or around this staircase when the sun goes down?

10 comments:

kenju said...

Bums sleep under it, drugs are sold under it and prostitutes ply their trade on it.

h&b said...

People make out on it, drunkenly .. then vomit over the edge of it ...

Sorry i've been away so long Carmi, and thank you so much for keeping up with my blog - you really have a magic way with words, even in the humble comment box !

Tiel Aisha Ansari said...

Cats come every month at the dark of the moon and perform a secret dance ritual to make Her return. They come at the full moon to celebrate. At the half-moon, you might see one solitary cat prowling through the alley, changing shape as he passes through the bars of shadow cast by the sodium-vapor lamps in the nearby street... because unlike werewolves, cats metamorphose under the gibbous moon.

Moi said...

if a building catches my fancy, i make sure i go check out its "rear" :) sometimes, there's more there to capture your imagination than its facade would want you to believe :)

Heather said...

A solitary person sits at the top of the fire escape and dreams of what could be...

Rainbow dreams said...

I was going to be far more romantic than that.. though the others are probably nearer the truth! :)

colleen said...

Yes, I love this! Is this how they all got away? Good eye, Carmi.

Anna said...

I love this Carmi!

Susan said...

Great photo, Carmi! I love the shadows.

Lori's Light Extemporanea said...

Oh Carmi, don't make me think today! I love the pictures that I've gotten to catch up on. I wonder sometimes if things we think are inanimate can actually contain memories. Seems to me that my great-grandparents' house did.