I just love old, run-down buildings. Wooden. Usually barns. Windows. Doors. Dirt floors. All the conversations and relationships of every one who has ever passed through somehow lingering in the dirt and the patina on the wood. The silence of relationships past. Space to imagine in.
Yesterday I was wandering around and towards the south end of the island there is a place called Burgoyne Bay where these old heritage buildings sit at the side of a dirt road. They have signs saying do not enter. Probably no money to fix them.
With my camera in hand, I never feel alone. I am in my element. I am able to spend hours just wandering and looking and it always makes me happy. I'm beginning to wonder why I call myself a "writer" when in fact photography is what truly brings me joy. Writing is such hard work.
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