I love old things.

Oh my god, do I love them.


That’s why I live in a second oldest building in town

which is, in fact, a nationally registered historical landmark.


All the lives that went before me

passed or stayed here – where I am –

and the building that cradles me

has seen it all and

withstood the test of time.


Fully restored, it gives me a sense of

connection to a past I will never know


But I can feel it second hand: warm, and loved.


Which brings me to second-hand stores.

Another thing I love.


The REAL wood furniture is one of my favorites

But so are smaller items

All have been loved by someone before me

else they wouldn’t be in a second-hand store.

When you don’t care about something you’re done with

you throw it out.

When you love it,

you want it to go to another home

and be loved by someone else.


But the really old things

(what we call antique is actually ‘new’ in comparison)

like the old buildings in England

that have been around for, oh

six or eight hundred years.




What life is held within THOSE walls!

It is mankind’s ‘old growth forest’ built by people

And it makes one want to touch gently

and walk carefully.

The outside is worn

and when the setting sun

hits at just the right angle

the building glows and intangible

gold that warms it

and lends an alive calm

that no human can live

long enough to attain.


It’s beauty is often captured later in life, by older and wiser eyes.

The one regret I have of choosing an honest and therefore poverty-stricken life

is that I cannot visit

and touch the walls.