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Old Comments:

2011-07-13 02:09:55
I posted this a long time ago, along the time I was doing a couple of themes: Along Hwy 66 and Old Ghost Towns of the West. I'm glad you liked the comments.
2011-07-13 01:58:05
White searching for a picture I came across this one. The photo and particularly the comments brought a lot of memories and emotion for me. Thank you Connie and all.
2009-07-11 18:03:35
Your comment about your gramma says that the photo brought back lovely memories of her. That's a great compliment to me.
2009-07-11 14:02:28
I was about to tell you how much I liked the pic too, it reminded me of my gramma and how much she loved her rocking chair..she did alot of rocking, she lived to a hundred and one! but anyway when I read all the comments on here and how well spoken you all were I thought anything I say will sound plain compared to these people! anyway I enjoyed the comments as much as the pic.
2009-07-11 12:39:27
Very well said Einzelkampfer
2009-07-11 12:38:30
Stay tuned - I'll be posted Ghost Town theme. A had great photos but gradually folks would post them and I would delete mine.
2009-07-10 14:26:24
Nice, evocative photo, Connie. When I'm in these surroundings, I am always struck by the fact that people lived there. Seeing the hundreds of small traces of human habitation - some faint or obscured by dust and weather - the absence of humanity, magnified and mocked by the obvious passage of time, creates a strange feeling that is part nostalgia and part deep curiosity. Thanks, again...
2009-07-09 14:25:44
I've seen similar pics from U.S. "ghost towns." Old mining towns, etc. Places where people moved away because they could not make a living, or because they wanted to go to the big cities with the bright lights. I get a feeling of sadness for the lost way of life, yet I'm a city girl (at 57) and have no desire to live in the lonely, deserted small towns. I feel a part of my parents' past, however, and the agricultural lifestyle in our so-recent past. My grandparents were farmers, my parents are the "bridge" generation, I'm a city girl.
2009-07-08 17:24:09
I enjoyed all your comments. I saw a few old abandoned houses in the rural Canadian prairies. There would sometimes be odd pieces of furniture or clothing left behind. I would always wonder who had lived there - where they had gone - had there been children growing up in that house - joy or sorrow. I would imagine hearing the everyday life noises of those simple hard-working country people - like an inprint had been left behind. I highly recommend reading Beryl Markham's book. She bred and trained race horses in East Africa; then took up aviation, carrying mail, passengers & supplies to remote areas. In 1936, she became the first person to fly solo across the Atlantic from east to west. She wrote about life in those days in Africa. Her writing is sheer poetry, so descriptive you feel transported to those bygone days in Africa - one of my favourite books. Ernest Hemingway, wrote "...she has written so well, and marvelously well, that I was completely ashamed of myself as a writer. I felt that I was simply a carpenter with words....But she can write rings around all of us who consider ourselves as writers".
2009-07-08 14:25:37
That soundless echo is emanated from the interior of a car after a long drive when the engine and radio are turned off. I could think of many instances. :)
2009-07-08 13:48:17
Like waking up in the morning after a big party the night before. That soundless echo is emanated from empty beer bottles overflowing ashtrays and a very big mess in general. ;)
2009-07-08 13:04:53
Good pics....It show a escenary like sounds of the silence (Simon and Gurfunkel`s Music).....
2009-07-08 12:17:36
Excellent photo, superb and profound words....thank you so much.
2009-07-08 08:51:52
Beryl Markham, in her book ‘West with the Night’, wrote that there are all kinds of silences and each of them means a different thing….morning in the forest…silence before and after a rainstorm…silence of emptiness…silence of fear, of doubt. But, there is a certain silence that can emanate from a lifeless object as from a chair lately used, or from a piano with old dust upon its keys. This kind of silence can speak. Its voice may be melancholy, but it is not always so, for the chair may have been left by a laughing child or the last notes of the piano may have been raucous and gay. It’s a soundless echo.