tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4843157625045099797.post3191299530868032921..comments2024-03-27T23:56:25.286-07:00Comments on Cabinet of Wonders: Places That Are LostHeather McDougalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09683209580852572301noreply@blogger.comBlogger6125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4843157625045099797.post-73005986497706107232007-11-14T12:16:00.000-08:002007-11-14T12:16:00.000-08:00Your posts always fascinate me, but this really re...Your posts always fascinate me, but this really resonated.<BR/> I have moved away from things a lot, from people and lives. The changes that come to them always seem partly my fault, for being gone.<BR/> But there is something beautiful about the transient, too. It haunts and resonates.<BR/><BR/> Thank you for sharing these things...Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4843157625045099797.post-46305451522269546352007-11-12T20:40:00.000-08:002007-11-12T20:40:00.000-08:00Happened on an abandoned house yesterday, wish I k...Happened on an abandoned house yesterday, wish I knew what made the people who once lived there leave so fast: 25 years of dirt and nature, but glasses and plates still on the shelves and ancient food in the fridge. A skirt hanging neatly and still white. Saddening and also quite a bit creepy. I wish I'd been able to trace the history of that place.<BR/><BR/>That quote from Mr Saiga is so strong.<BR/><BR/>(Wrote a ton about entropy here, better left as is.)<BR/><BR/>Every bit we do matters, agreed.Dhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07557092226753597222noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4843157625045099797.post-65625427884082882302007-11-12T15:59:00.000-08:002007-11-12T15:59:00.000-08:00And God Bless you for being the one who does chron...And God Bless you for being the one who does chronicle these things going away! I love your blog. I am amazed at the perspective you bring to things you blog about. Keep it up!Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/04551150929109617073noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4843157625045099797.post-18389130442910553502007-11-09T17:57:00.000-08:002007-11-09T17:57:00.000-08:00In sixth grade, my best friend and I had a place w...In sixth grade, my best friend and I had a place we called "the sacred place." It was in a meadow. A fallen tree was there, and we would sit on it and tell each other the secrets of our burgeoning sexuality. In a story, the fallen tree would have been a premonition. The meadow is long since developed into housing. <BR/><BR/>Many places of my childhood are lost, but I moved around so much, maybe I don’t care as much. Always new horizons. But sometimes I wish my grandparents, long dead, still lived in their little pink and green house in North Carolina. We would always visit there, between moves, and I would go around and look at everything, enjoying that they were still the same as they'd been the last time. I was sad when I learned that the young couple who bought it got divorced. <BR/><BR/>Mr. Saiga's account mirrors the island. In his passion to photograph the passing island are the seeds of his own decay as an artist. Even as he's beginning, he's ending. "But however unskillful the pictures might have been, I honestly feel that my desire to take photographs then was stronger than it is now."<BR/><BR/>"I was always one of those weird people who were conscious of things going away, I don't know why." Maybe you have Buddhist karma. You know deep inside the truth of <I>Samsara,</I> the floating world. Or Italian karma. (Your Halloween entry.) In Venice, they put little posters of the dead on the walls in the <I>sestieri</I>: a picture and the name and dates, and maybe a little tribute. Paper shrines.<BR/><BR/>It's funny to be so connected with impermanence, isn't it? Seems paradoxical.Jeanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03035351428671762555noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4843157625045099797.post-74516608995396694212007-11-08T16:11:00.000-08:002007-11-08T16:11:00.000-08:00I also thank you, Heather, for this most touching ...I also thank you, Heather, for this most touching short essay. Your memories and the beautiful images of Mr. Saiga, though a continent and a culture apart, reflect the universality of the human experience. Such connections make for wonderful art and worthy contemplation.<BR/>A faithful reader.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4843157625045099797.post-22997314471323060622007-11-08T14:14:00.000-08:002007-11-08T14:14:00.000-08:00Thank you for this beautiful post! I enjoy your Ca...Thank you for this beautiful post! I enjoy your Cabinet of Wonders so much, and I found this entry incredibly moving. I just wanted to let you know how much happiness (and wonder!) you bring to a total stranger across the interwebs.<BR/>Thank you.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com