I thought I might have nothing to say today, but I managed to get out and take some photos of neighbouring streets in this part of the valley. The people in the Council Offices call it the “Heritage Factory District”. I call it home. It pleases them to put protection orders on derelict buildings simply because they are rare surviving examples of yesteryear.
Final thought: sometimes Karleen says “where does all the time go?” and it gives me a strange thought, of a conveyor belt sending all the used-up days to landfill. The young people care only for tomorrow; while I try to save at least some yesterdays from oblivion.
a wayfarer’s notes 