Why, you may (or may not) ask, do I love to take pictures of furniture abandon by the road? Its because I think stray sofas and such are a beautiful metaphor for terminal illness. If on moving day a couch is left just long enough for the owner to pull the rented U-Haul around front, this is like a scare, like a funny lump or shadow on an x-ray that turns out to be nothing in the end. If an overstuffed chair is left out because somebody got a big gift certificate from IKEA and there was no room for the old things, but a college student shows up after an hour and doesnt mind the stains and rips because its free. This is like, having cancer but the chemo, although rough and unpleasant, worked. Youll always be a little nervous, but you beat the odds. But anything with upholstery that has been rained on or has spent the night outdoors, this is Furniture Hospice. These are couches and chairs that go through all six stages of grief (inanimate objects have an extra one), they joke about how they always wanted to be a lawn chair. Theyll chuckles and say, Yeah, Id like to meet the garbage worker who can lift this hide-a-bed! Or they will reminisce about their days indoors, all that has gone on on them. But theyre just marking time until the truck shows up. And, today, tomorrow, next week, that truck always comes.
Posted on: Tue, 11 Nov 2014 22:13:39 +0000
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