I love the possible puzzles.
The imaginings of what happened there once upon a time.
The relics with a story to tell.
The thrill of wandering ghosts.
A few days ago, I lounged on the dentist's chair in the Office of Oral Ornateness. Smack in front of me, a large picture window framed a century-plus-twelve-years-old building—now a theatre for play performances.
And it mesmerized me.
The chimneys and railings and vent in the attic.
And the windows.
I was sure there must be a ghost cavorting around inside and if I kept a steely eye on the windows, I would surely spy one.
So while I watched, I sketched the shivery building.
And pondering the wisps of folks long gone, I studied the open slats in the attic, the rows of windows—one of them missing the wooden cross bars (a story begging to be told), the basement windows encased in stones and brickwork, the railing that appeared to descend into the realm of the basement.
And I'm sure a ghost or two traveled past the windows, anxious to tell me their stories, to send vibrations of themselves into the wonderings of someone like me.
So to all my ghostly friends out there
who whisper your riveting tales—
A thousand thanks.
And a smile.
