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  • Down the road, the past is being dismantled.

    A barn is coming apart piece by piece.
    At least it is not being demolished like that other house, two weeks ago, farther down the road.
    The old chicken barn is coming down, and the industry is dead within recent memory of the town residents.
    Drive 10 miles from here in any direction and you will see more than one derelict property.
    The present is demolishing the past.

    The owner of the barn cut and milled the wood that we used to build our workshop.

    We put the boards up, one by one.
    I was recovering from Lymphoma and each board I put up meant that I believed in the future.

    Trees made walls, and turned a forest into a dwelling.

    Materials were transformed.

    Materials are transformed.
    We are made of materials and time has its way with us.

    I don’t know which is more frightening, the future, or the past.
    I don't know which is more beautiful.
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