Thoughts

I went by the flat again today, alas without my camera, the walls are now bare and it made me think about the fabric of a building. By the time this flat is finished it will be a clean canvas for someone else to call ‘home’ and make it their own.

Thinking about my own home now and the ones we have previously lived in we have always left a mark. We recently replaced our carpet in the hallway and uncovered my daughters painted footprints from when she was younger. hidden under the wallpaper in every room is writing on the walls , dates and lines to show how tall we all were. Outside in cement there are footprints embedded. Is there a subconscious need to leave  evidence to prove that you were there for eternity and for others to witness?

The walls in the flat have been scraped away, there are no markings left behind, plaster will cover the rest as will fresh paint so it makes me wonder how permanent any of our markings really are.  Are they there for our benefit or others? Similar to us storing photographs for ever more, some are so mundane that they only have meaning to us but we preserve them and would be bereft if we longer had them.

The layers and layers of wallpaper and paint which gives age to a building also tells of its past and those that lived there. I recall scraping away many layers to our home and being fascinated by the story it told. The rare find of a long lost treasure in the soil of the garden that proves someone other than you once resided there.

I was recently given a box of negatives from my mother, I am besotted and yet they are not MY memories, these are her younger years but they exist as part of me. Without her I would not be here, without the bricks and mortar in which we lived our lives would not be the same.

This mans home has been wiped clean along with every trace that he ever existed there!

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