the great american

after 6+ hours on the road, after i've decided i no longer like driving, we head into the
mountains of new york and the little mountain towns that sit between them. here i
finally get my slow second wind, which is like waking up from a nap on a bed of ground,
sore, grouggy, but somehow refreshed. the towns were alive with no people.
i've never seen so many well built comfy towns lack people. it's like everyone up
and ran. and then theres horror movies. the bar owners are really gremlins.
that kid is a monster. oh my, look at those eyes.

i'm not sure what makes abandoned towns appealing. why do some towns make it
and not others? here they all have the same ability to pull the skiers in, the hikers,
the mountaineers, the yuppies. three town in a row, no one in sight, windows in
the middle of the cute antique shops boarded it. cobwebs spun silly over tables,
glass, focus. then one booming town with two ice cream shops, a grocery store
(see above) and a town ordinance posted across the street: "No Cursing, No
Skateboarding, No Alcohol, No Smoking. According to..."

Perhaps its the lack of breath in the abandoned towns that pull
my attention. There is this feeling of loss, of escape, the last store owner
with 40 good years behind him is closing his door, his aunt's farm was
bought by a fancy dancy ski tour company. its got turned into a place
with hot tubs and poker games, money thrown around like the wind
blowing the seeds of plants. or perhaps it became the land where the
rodeo takes place. who knows. all i really know is this town used to breathe,
it used to wake up at 6am and open its doors,
grow its food, grow its children and feed its neighbors. i take photos
and pretend i see ghosts in the windows, not waving, only telling me to get out.